Mage Duel
by Autumn Faery
Summary: .:chp11:.What if the knife Flauvic had used to cut Mel was poisoned to kill? What if Mel barely survived but lost her memory? Story includes the World Gates, Flauvic, lots of magic, a beautiful duchess, mages, and our fav. couple: Mel and Danric!
1. Chapter One

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**Mage Duel**

_By Autumn Faery_

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**Synopsis: **___Since Flauvic's defeat, Mel has suffered a near-death experience and tragic memory loss. Now it's up to her and her loved ones to re-shape her shattered life. Amidst it all, a certain Marquis of Shevraeth seems to baffle her more than anything. _

Yet those are not Mel's only troubles. Late at night, when she's alone and strangely drained, Flauvic seems more alive than ever.

Is he really gone?

And why is Mel's newly recovered health declining?

**Disclaimer:** Of course, only a genius like Sherwood Smith can create Crown Duel. Obviously, I'm no genius. Thus, nothing in this fanfiction belongs to me except for the plot and a few insignificant original characters.

**And my thanks to**: Wake-Robin, who's going to beta-read this story!

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**_Chapter One_**

The cool blade felt sharp and foreboding against my neck. _Do not burden Vidanric_, I repeated to myself, trying hard to maintain my calm despite the shivers of alarm racing through me.

Flauvic's breath against my ear was moist as he whispered almost inaudibly, "Dear foolish, foolish Meliara. You've never quite learned the art of evading maladroit choices, have you? For your transgressions you shall pay."

My breaths became raspy struggles, my heart pounding, as Flauvic pressed his mouth against my ear. I could feel his lips curve in a smirk as he increased the pressure of his knife against my skin.

Drops of warm blood rolled down my neck.

A choked gasp suddenly escaped my throat, and I miserably berated myself for my lack of control. Biting my lips hard, I sought to compose myself as my neck stung as if thousand needles were prickling me, my body aflame with bouts of agony.

Flauvic laughed—a pleasant, musical laugh so malicious in its deceit.

The smooth sound of a blade ripped from its sheath brought my attention from the villainous man beside me. Sword steady in hand and forehead frowned in concentration, Vidanric advanced towards us. In response, Flauvic tightened his hold and pulled me back from Vidanric's proceeding steps.

"How does it feel, Meliara? How does it feel to die?" Flauvic quickly questioned, his voice purposely loud and cutting. Vidanric's eyes darkened to a storm.

_Oh no. Flauvic, you toad_, I though with menace as I raked my head for a good retort, _you are _not_ going to use me against Vidanric!_

"_Actually_, it feels quite wonderful, for I am utterly enveloped with satisfaction to see you defeated," I finally managed, sending a grim smile of assurance in Vidanric's direction. The intoxicating auras of magic in the throne room were unmistakable; the Hill Folk were in Athanarel—to our rescue. _Just a little longer. Brace up. _

True to my words, the ground soon shook thunderously. Flauvic suddenly screamed and I was released from his grip, tumbling unceremoniously to the ground with the knife next to me in a clatter. I could do nothing for a moment but lie sprawled on the ground and recollect myself.

Then, amidst the chaos, strong but gentle arms encircled me and carefully lifted me from the ground. I looked up and saw Vidanric's concerned face and tried to give him a reassuring smile. By now the world was whirling around me; I felt dull and lightheaded. Flashes of blurry light glared in every direction of my vision, and I flung my head to Vidanric's chest just in time to see Flauvic fling a handful of green light toward us.

I clung to Vidanric and closed my eyes, bracing myself.

_Nothing. _

I slowly reopened my eyes and realized the Hill Folk had formed a circle around Flauvic, chanting in unison. _A spell? A song?_ It sounded like both. My vision was getting steadily worse, but I think Flauvic's body began to deform; he seemed to stretch considerably, his golden hair streaming, as the building shook with deafening booms and cracks.

What happened next I could not clearly see; nothing except for a mixture of bright lights flashed through the throne room, and there it was: a magnificent goldwood tree where Flauvic had once stood.

I inhaled sharply, blinking_. Can it be true? Is it truly over?_ Either I had just witnessed a great miracle—or I had gone mad. Sane or insane, I hoped with all my heart that the Merindar threat was over.

Behind me, Vidanric uttered a shuddering a sigh of relief and I turned around to face him. Gazing dazedly at him, I saw that his court mask was not present. There instead were ardent eyes and a gently smiling countenance as he bent down to gently caress my face with his lips. I sighed in content and rested my head against his chest.

The patterns of his tunic swarmed and my head throbbed viciously. I grimaced, and then shut my eyes.

"Meliara," I heard faintly.

_Humm_? I doggedly forced open my heavy eyelids. Vidanric's eyebrows were tense and grim as he gazed searchingly at me.

"Wha—don—worr—" I mumbled incoherently. _What's wrong with me_?

"Mel! Life!" This time I caught the sharp worry of his voice. "You're as pallor as snowstone! Mel—burn it!—can you hear me at all? Mel?" My head warbled—he was shaking me frantically.

Then it hit me, and the black realization suddenly made my stomach reel and my eyes sting with tears.

_I am to die after all, then. _

_Vidanric. _I desperately wanted to say something—anything. I wanted to tell him how much he sounded like Bran just that moment, and how it was the first time I heard such sharp alarm in his voice instead of his usual emotionless drawl. I wanted to tell him how much I had always secretly cared for him, though he knew not, and how much I would always continue to love him. Yet my lips did not heed my wish; I could not utter a sound as my vision faded … and finally blackened.

The last of Vidanric's anxious voice drifted away.

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"The knife. It was poisoned—and perhaps the animosity does not even end there."

_What was that? _My mind was hazy. There had been nothingness … until the flat, tightly controlled voice brought me to some consciousness—_from what?_

"THAT SON OF A CONVENANT BREAKER!" I felt my head pound from the sheer volume of the raw outburst. _Most probably a different speaker_, I reasoned as I contrasted the two voices, the former controlled and stiff while the latter passionately angry.

The second speaker continued fervently, "_Burn it!_ I say this world's about to end—all the reason's gone from it! If anyone deserves to die, it'd be that skunk out there happily being a _tree_! Meliara"—the voice cracked and broke—"_Mel_ is too young, too honest, too good, too"—a ruthful noise that sounded like a broken chuckle—"foolishly noble and heroic and selfless to suffer such a nasty fate—oh life, I'll never have peace of mind after this. She … she's best sister anyone would want; I _won't_ bear the thought of losing her."

Though what I heard next sounded curiously like discrete sniffles, the atmosphere turned to a grim and solemn silence.

And then, so gently tentative: "Bran, look at me. Compose yourself. Mel is not going to leave us. You know her—probably will wake this instant and retort, "since when am I going to die without a fight?" _Let us have faith_." I instant liked this speaker—whose mild and sweet tones betrayed her as a female—and her sensible words. "Come, let us get you something hot to eat; what use will you be to her if you wear yourself out? Danric? Something to drink?"

"Coffee. Thank you, Nee," the very voice that initially jerked me to awareness replied in a strained, tired tone.

After that brief exchange, silence dominated once more. My senses began to feel murky, but I thought I felt a hand stroking my forehead as I slowly slipped away into nothingness again.

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Rays of warmth—it was my first clear registration when I somehow commanded my heavy eyelids to open. I was immersed in tender saffron streaming from two wide windows, which revealed the serene dawn-lit sky outside. Birds chirped, and my cheeks felt the gentle brush of the breeze. Enthralling scents around me brought my attention to the numerous flower arrangements placed around my bed.

Surges of joy of bubbled inside me. _No more darkness!_ I thought with ecstasy, taking in all the beauty and light and—

I froze.

There was a man fast asleep in a cushion by my bedside—an _unknown_ man. Dressed in a plain tunic and breeches, it was impossible to guess his rank or identity.

I tried to squash my initial desire to just jolt out of bed and run out croaking, and examined his appearance. His face was slender and elegant, with a wide and expressive mouth and a straight, noble nose. His hair was silvery blond, and was held back simply in the plainest of styles. Yet what struck out the most to me was his troubled countenance: his forehead was faintly wrinkled in a somber frown, and the corners of his mouth were tense and grim.

My confusion furthered when I became vaguely aware of intense pressure around my hand. My glance diverted from the man, and I realized his was holding my hand in a death-grip, his knuckles pale.

And … there was something … hazily familiar about him. But when I tried to reason why, my head ached splendidly. I winced.

My gaze trailed back to the man's face—and suddenly found provocative gray eyes looking intently at me.

Strange as it was, we seemed to stare at each other for eternity. I couldn't pull my gaze from his silvery ones—and he just plainly seemed to have frozen.

Then, as sudden as his awakening, his face broke into a heart-warming smile, his stormy eyes suddenly so emotional it nearly overwhelmed me.

"Mel!" he sighed in a raw voice, and before I knew it, I was crushed in his embrace, with his hands stroking my back.

Those same hands trailed to my face and tentatively traced my features, as if he was not sure of my existence. He leaned in close, so close I was smote by the intensity of those light eyes. My eyelids fluttered shut …

"Life! Mel—_Mel_!" With a startled jerk, I turned towards the direction of the sudden voice and saw a man clad in noble attire sprinting in, followed by a woman of similar finesse. "Oh, you're really going to be all right! Thank the stars! You've been unconscious for so long, I thought I had gone _quite_ mad when— "

He paused, gawking at me.

Blissful ignorance only last a moment before I realized I was still very much locked intimately with the unknown pale-haired man. Heat rushed to my face, and I found myself coughing and coughing until I was positive I'd die from the lack of air.

Both the lord and the lady were immediately by my bedside, making noises of comfort and patting me on the back. "There, there. No need to look as if you've been caught in an act of debauchery. Proud to announce that I've saw that one coming, Sister!"

_Huh? _

My head was now a frenzy of splitting pain, my mind in uproar, as the lord and lady took their turns to embrace me. A grunt of misery escaped my throat, and I cradled my poor head.

"Have I hurt you Mel?" the man who called me Sister immediately exclaimed. "Should I call a healer?"

"That won't be necessary, my lord," I managed to croak back.

The man had the audacity to laugh with surprise. "My lord? Mel, perhaps you need more rest? Or maybe it'll be good go get that heal—"

"_Why_? I said I'm fine!" I found myself interrupting sharply, all my frustration seeping into my voice. "Why a healer? And why all this treatment, as if I was … _dead_?"

"Mel?"

I ignored the soft, horrified inquiry from the woman, and continued on, "What am I doing here? What are _you_ doing here?"

I glanced slowly at them, one by one. Faces full of confusion, concern, and fear. Faces I did not know.

"Who _are _you?"

I heard a choked gasp, and everything became silent.

And finally: "Stars … _I don't even know who I am._" My chest dulled and sickened as I choked out a broken cough. Something wet plopped on my clenched fists.

Glancing down, I realized I was crying.

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**AN: **Yay! Congrats! You've just gotten through the first chapter, which _hopefully_ you've enjoyed. And you now have a chance to make my day if you simply press the review button below--come on, be nice, you know we authors need reviews as much as we need food and sleep--and submit your feedback! I don't even care what you write; you can threaten to put arsenic in my tea for all I care. So yeah. Review. And of course, read on. 


	2. Chapter Two

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**Mage Duel**

_By Autumn Faery_

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**Disclaimer: **What do you think? Of course I own none of this! 'Tis all the lovely work of Sherwood Smith!

**My thanks for the following reviewers:** PhoenixMage, Ara Davies, LoKi-iNsPiReD, ShannonLynn, FelSong, anon, Rhiannon Omega, Mademoiselle Parfait, Onyx, Averna, Nayeli Gold, Meliara Astiar, RoxyBarbieHer, rootbeergirl19, and FoREvEr ends

**Thank You** WakeRobin for being my beta-reader!

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_**Chapter Two**_

What _should_ one do should one awake one day, in a strange room with strange people—and realize one's entire life is gone?

I confess I was at loss when the realization hit me that day; I simply did not know whether I should scream in horror, howl in anguish, or cry without restraint. Bleak, numb, frightened, I had simply sat there in bed, still with shock, while my breaths came out in short, strangled gasps.

What I did know, however, was that never in my life would I want to feel that intense emptiness again. It was as if someone had snatched a part of my soul, leaving me deprived and wounded while drowning in the dark depths of ignorance.

The three strangers had been silent, but I had felt them staring at me intensely. I hadn't the courage to meet their gaze. With my head hanging, I had requested them to leave without another word. Though reluctant, the three had left me in peace.

Since their departure, I had had my mind racked thoroughly over and over for answers. It's inconceivable that one should wake up on a fine morning and remember _nothing_!

What had exactly happened?

But when it became clear that I truly lost knowledge of who I was, I finally broke down and fell into depression. I locked myself in my room for at least three days, isolating myself from the outside world and accepting little food. I would then spend whole days burying myself in books I found in a corner of the room. Reading made me _forget_ and alleviated some of the pain.

Several people—I had no idea who—tried to visit me, but I asked every one of them to leave me be. I thought if I avoided them, I too could avoid the awful truth. _Who knows how many think me mad?_ I wondered miserably. _And who knows how much outrageous gossip's out there circulating?_

Hence, I became even more frail and forlorn everyday, so unsure of what to do with myself … until I woke up on a rainy day.

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"Ah, glorious," I muttered sardonically when I got out of bed. "Even the weather's beginning to reflect my mood." Sighing, I dragged myself to the wardrobe and began looking for a fresh dress. 

Whoever I had been in the past, I had to admit my choice of attires did not change. The gowns before me looked very much like dresses I would choose myself: rich in color, yet simple and elegant in style. In no mood to garnish my appearance, I chose the simplest gown—a morning dress of faded blue—and closed the wardrobe.

I threw off my nightgown without care and mechanically changed into the gown. Fingering through my untidy hair, I quickly braided it without thought, wrapping it twice around my head and tucking the ends in.

Glancing at the abandoned book on my night table, I fingered its handsomely bound cover—but did not pick it up.

_Enough moping_, I told myself firmly, and decided to look around my supposed room. Perhaps a few things might enlighten myself about my mysterious past …

I observed closely at everything for the first time. My rooms consisted of a little parlor, a bedroom, and a dressing room, which was connected to a beautiful bathroom full of steaming pools and potted trees. The suite was done in soft shades of a lovely pale-green, and the furniture was antique and exquisite. All of the cushions were a calm pale-blue, stitched with patterns of ivies and blossoms.

Moving to the dressing room, I found little. There were few jewels and no face paints. The discovery allowed a slight grin for the first time in days; I was satisfied I had not been a frivolous fool.

Sitting in front of the mirror was a luminous vase, and in it a single withering white rose. Suddenly, a gentle female voice echoed in my mind: _White roses symbolize purity. White roses symbolize … white roses … purity…_

I shook my head, almost disturbed. My gaze shifted and fell on a beautiful painted porcelain gift-egg next to the rose. It resembled the starry sky, and mesmerized by its beauty, I opened it with great care. The rich silk inside was designed to hold a ring, but it was empty. I closed the case with disappointment and a glint of gold caught my eyes.

In the middle of my left hand was a gorgeous ring with a single handsomely cut sapphire. It glittered like a radiant night star. I blinked at it, how could I have not noticed it before? _Hah. I was_ _too busy raging and self-loathing_, I noted with irony. _But what does it mean? _

That moment a gentle tap on my tapestry interrupted my train of thoughts. Turning somewhat brusquely to send the visitor away, I came face-to-face with a familiar woman. _She was there_, I suddenly realized, which made the want to avoid her even greater.

"Mel," she began, "forgive my intrusion, but you _must_ allow me a few words." Her tone was almost desperate, her wide-set brown eyes pleading.

By the quality of her morning dress, she was certainly a lady of considerable rank—and beauty. Her figure was slender and round at the right places, and her rich brown hair and eyes were a pleasing contrast to her fashionably pale skin.

_Why would such a lady seek my audience?_ I thought and looked with doubt at her pleading face, searching for traces of malice. But I found none.

At length, I said, "And forgive me for my bluntness, but why waste your time with a half-mad fool like me? If you wish to mock me"—I paused to grimace—"go ahead. You and I might as well get it over with."

The lady looked horrified, but quickly smothered her expression, looking thoughtful instead. "Mel, I shall not pretend I know what you're going through," she said carefully and slowly, her demeanor gentle, "but I sincerely would like to offer my support and aid."

She paused a little, frowning, before adding, "And I confess, I … think I was partly responsible for putting you though this ordeal. Apologies are not going to express my remorse, nor will it change anything. Oh—but —how I wish I could share your burden!"

I lifted a brow. "So you desire to help me because of your guilt? Does the aid ease it?"

"Life, _no_! Mel, I _care_ for you! We're practically family and we're close friends—friends that trust and care for each other; the kind that lets one lean on the other in times of trouble! _Please_, Mel…"

Her earnestness touched my heart, and trust flooded through me. I frowned at my quick faith. It could be entirely possible the lady was a gifted actress. Yet, I felt my lips curl up in a tiny grin as I remarked, "Mel… That's my name, huh? I think I rather like it."

The lady laughed melodiously. "Meliara is your real name, but we all regard you simply as Mel. Oh, it's wonderful to see you grin again. I've missed you terribly. Oh! How could I forget? I apologize for the awkwardness." She stretched her hand out in front of me. "I'm Nimiar Argaliar, your brother's betrothed."

_I have I brother?_ I wondered, but kept silent as I shook her pretty hands.

"I know you are still very confused," she continued slowly, choosing her words with care, "but perhaps you would like join me for tea sometime? I'm sure we'll have a fine time reacquainting each other."

Though ambiguous thoughts still remained in my mind like a swarm of angry bees, her presence made me at ease; her gentle words and amiable mien had a pleasing effect on my nerves. I gave Lady Nimiar what I hoped was my most polite smile. "You have my deepest gratitude for your concern, Lady Nimiar—"

"Please, call me Nee."

"Thank you … Nee," I tested her name. She smiled. "I think … tea sometime in the future will be pleasant indeed."

Nimiar smiled again—this time with both lips and eyes—and bade me goodbye. "I understand that you probably prefer privacy at the moment. I shall thus bother you no longer. But, please, I do hope we may talk as friend to friend soon. I miss your refreshing company very much, Mel."

_She seems to understand me very well_, I noted, smiling gratefully at her._ I wonder what part she played in my past?_

Nimiar made her way towards the tapestry, but before stepping out, she glanced back at me and said, "Oh, by the way, my rooms are next to your own suite. Come to me any time it pleases you; your presence shall be welcome _always_." She gave me a brief smile, waved, and left.

Alone once again, I closed my eyes. Lady Nimiar, the mention of a brother, the ring, and the alien echo in my mind … everything seemed to take its toll on me.

Yet a spark of hope had been created—one that refused to diminish no matter how I scolded for myself for harnessing foolishly optimistic trust.

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_For wisdom, courage, and hope. You've always had the spirit of a fighter, with a thirst for knowledge and an honorable and just intuition. Do not give up. Your faith, wisdom, and courage have and will enable you to triumph over any obstacle_—_past, present, and future_. 

I frowned at the note. Fingering its smooth, pleasing texture, I read and re-read the message until I'd examined every sentence and choice of word.

When I had came back from Lady Nimiar's suite, I was greeted by a fresh bouquet of Irises in an aesthetic porcelain vase, placed on a tray that appeared to be where I received my notes and invitations. The flowers brightened my room with its natural beauty, and accompanying with the gift was a short note in plain script, with no signature indicting the well-wisher.

_Guess I don't even have to write a thank you note,_ I thought wryly, but was secretly glad of the message's anonymousness. Though note consisted of no more than a few sentences, it gave me considerable amounts of comfort, especially after my long talk with Lady Nimiar, in which I received much unbelievable information about my past.

I had gotten up before the sun rose this morning at first-gold to visit Nee. We then had talked long and hard until it was almost noon.

It turned out that I am Meliara Astiar, the Countess of Tlanth. The same man who had squawked quite a bit that terrible day when I awakened was in fact my _brother_, Lord Branaric the elder, Count of Tlanth.

Lady Nimiar had then gone on to a lengthy account of my—what did she call it?—"brave and praiseworthy adventures". She did a fine job telling a wondrous tale of captures and close escapes and daring escapades, complete with legendary creatures, an evil tyrant, nasty spells, and a valiant marquis. But I had a very, very difficult time accepting the grand tale as _truth_.

I was apparently some sort of gallant heroine in the past.

Nimiar herself had praised me of my unselfish sacrifice and courageous acts. _And _she assured me that the entire kingdom thinks of me only in admiration and does not yet even know of my memory loss. I was grateful that most does not think me mad … yet. Nimiar had even suggested that I could learn the customs and ways of Court with her help in secret, thus effectively covering my mess.

_But how am I ever going to live with the fact that I used to be a heroine? _I had thought grimly, after registering all the facts about my past life. _How am I going to pretend for the rest of my life? All of that is gone. I have nothing now, yet there'll be people expecting … well, heroine-like-things from me. I doubt I can even face a sword-trained ten-year-old now in a duel. _

With these grim thoughts, I placed the note in my hand back on to the table and walked to the window. It was a beautiful day, and I couldn't resist opening the shutters. The sun shown brightly like a jewel, and the sky was an intense shade of blue.

I looked longingly out into the world that I had kept myself away from for days. Directly below my window, there was a secluded pool surrounded by trees, and beyond that I spied exquisite gardens.

I suddenly had the urge to run free and dance with the wind.

_But what if I meet some courtier I have yet no idea how to handle?_ I thought dubiously. _If that happens, I'd never get myself out of this mess._ I sulked dejectedly. First I had imprisoned my self—and now, I found myself trapped _anyway_.

Yet the playful breeze from the open windows seemed to be either beckoning me to join them … or taunting my lack of freedom.

Unable to resist the temptation, I finally declared angrily, "Burn the courtiers! Does it matter if I'm sane or insane? I am going to enjoy myself and no one's going to stop me!"

I changed into a dark-colored walking-gown that was both simple and comfortable, and styled my long hair in a simple coronet. Satisfied with my simple, anonymous appearance, I wrapped a thin cloak around me and left, excited at the prospect of spending a day in the sun, with my troubles tucked away.

* * *

Somehow, I escaped the Residence unnoticed (or at east I hoped no one took note of my presence). I also evaded the nasty possibility of crossing the path of some idle courtier. I grinned at my success, my mood brighter than it has ever been since that horrid morning. 

The size and beauty of the garden _did_ amaze me. Trees, bushes, ponds, and flowerbeds spread far and wide. The sun's bright rays gave everything a soft, radiant glow. Scanning the formation of the gardens, I took note and mentally mapped the main paths, taking care to avoid them. As long as I strayed from the paths and moved only between trees and tall bushes, I should remain hidden with no extraneous trouble.

I roamed through the shrubberies and lush foliage with such ease and grace that I wondered if I was truly a countess. Yet with the joyful sun warming my face and the wind in my hair, I cared not if I was a countess or a scullery maid. Humming tunelessly, I explored the hidden parts of the garden and enjoyed every bit of its aesthetic beauty.

I was most relived I did not even detect a trace of anyone else but I. But of course, those oh-so-refined lords and ladies would want to spare themselves the pains and humiliation of being caught exploring like a rustic. I grinned.

But my mirth quickly faltered when I considered this: Wasn't I a lady too? Could a loss of memory really have changed me this much? From _refined_ to _rustic_?

I strolled aimlessly, too deeply buried in my thoughts until I heard a sudden purr. The noise jerked me out my thoughts, and I looked up to see a small kitten on a high branch, starring at me warily and quivering with fear. I realized with a sudden pang that the poor creature was trapped on the dangerously slender and high branch.

_How alike we are,_ I suddenly thought, my heart dreary. _Like you, I too am lost and confused—and trapped—on dangerous and fragile ground. A wrong step'll send me tumbling. _

Without reasoning or hesitation, I astounded myself by climbing up the tree. Then, like a woodland creature, I was up on a sturdy branch below the kitten within minutes.

"_Stars_! What did I just do?" I questioned in a horrified whisper when I balanced myself on the branch. "_I can't believe this_. I'm a countess that climbs _trees_." A small voice inside my head urged me to get back on the ground this instant, but I squashed it. I went through the trouble of getting up here—why not save the poor thing?

I placed one hand firmly on a neighboring branch lest I would fall. Reaching up carefully with my remaining hand, I grabbed the little creature gently. Immediately, it hissed and scratched my hand like a beast. I winced from a number of pains and quickly placed the fierce little creature on an even wider branch below us. Without a glance at my direction, it successfully jumped to the ground below and scampered off.

"You're welcome, you diabolical thing," I muttered irritably under my breath and glared half-heartedly at the spot where the cat was last present. With my task accomplished, I beamed with satisfaction and readied myself for the climb down.

And froze with alarm at the distant sound of a twig snapping.

I slowly looked down in apprehension and, to my sheer dismay, saw two lords ambling towards my direction. One had ebony black hair while the other … _was the same man I first saw_!

Oh, _burn_ it.

And bleak panic seized me when I realized the branch that supported me was bare and naked without leaves. The comically pathetic—and disastrous—situation made want to hit my head and groan. As the men approached closer and closer, I felt so desperate I almost wanted to scream, _Run! Yes, run with all your might! And don't even look back! The Norsunderians are coming! And have I mentioned not to look back unless you want your pretty face scorched like soot? _

Yet when I took a closer look at the two courtiers, I felt a spark of hope. They were absorbed in deep conversation, their voices hushed and heads bent with secrecy. _Why else would they be at this part of the garden?_ If indeed the two lords were engaged in a discussion of great importance—and if luck was on my side—I just might escape unnoticed. As they came almost below me, I almost held my breath and kept myself from uttering a single sound. My heart pounded loudly in my ears.

However, I couldn't help but catch snips of their conversation:

"The timing and events were most catastrophic, Russav. I had just confessed my love, after so long of careful deliberation, and … she accepted it," I heard one of them murmur soberly and shudder a truly distraught sigh. "Fate has been—"

"Danric," a different voice interjected mildly, "you must accept that fate does not possess—"

"—the justice or integrity one anticipates in human endeavors. I know," the first speaker finished, his voice tired and strained. "But I earnestly had not expected the full extent of its cruel animosity. She—"The voice broke off and sighed sharply. "It pains me simply to think of her, and it pains me even more to contemplate her current state of well being." The man sounded sincerely mournful, but I would have grinned if my situation permitted me. The resemblance of his situation to a grand romantic play or novel was uncanny.

There was some silence. Finally, his companion murmured, "I—I genuinely wish I've the ability to ameliorate the current situation. But Cousin, consider this: if she once truly loved you, no doubt she shall learn to love you again." The man went on, but I was far too nervous to pay attention anymore. By now, the two lords were almost right beneath me. What if one of them looked up? On this leafless, bare branch, I would be as obvious and funny as seeing a tree-fish. I shifted my feet slightly to balance myself better.

That proved to be a grievous mistake.

By that time that I realized I had shifted my feet on a patch of fresh, wet moss, it was far too late. I let out a small yelp as my body lost its balance, slipping from the branch. Feeling my heart in my throat, I desperately tried to grab a hold of something—_any_thing.

No avail. What happened next proceeded rapidly; there was no time for reactions or sensations save the sickening feel of the drop and—

—steady arms around me.

_Oh _no I thought dismally,_ I simply _refuse _to believe this is happening._

I buried my face in my hands and shuddered, my face burning with hot embarrassment as I braced myself for the horrible laughter and annihilating remarks.

_I had fallen straight and squarely into the arms of one lord._

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**AN**: Well, isn't that disasterous! Heh. Sorry if the falling-out-of-the-tree-thing is a bit--okay, maybe not a bit but rather a LOT--over used. I just couldn't resist when the idea popped in my mind. 

And must I remind you to review?

_And here are some individual thankyou's to my lovely, wonderful reviewers:_

**PhoenixMage** - Ah, I shan't ruin the fun of guessing for you...juuuust read and find out!

**Ara Davies** - Aww...I'm flattered. I HOPE they feel like the book.

**Danric-Lover** - Well, I've updated! Thanks for encouraging me! About the mages ... it will soon be revealed. Actually, I'm not too sure about "soon", but it will take place after Bran & Nee's wedding.

**ShannonLynn** - Thankyou! I simply ADORE your fanfics!

**FelSong** - Ah, you're such of a talented author. All of your stories are soo cool! Thanks for the review!

**anon** - Yeah, same here. Ever since I read CCD I have been so desperate for fanfics. Humm.. I think that's partly the reason why I started this fanfic. :P

**Rhiannon Omega** - Love your name ...or nickname(whatever it is)! Oh my gosh, your review was soo kind! I'm simply flattered. ..and is my horrible writing even CLOSE to Sherwood Smith's style? Heh. . .

**Lady Bee** - I think - from what the kind reviewers told me - you have to save your file as a web file to make words bold or italic. Hope that helps. Thanks for the review!

**Onyx** - Thankyou, and yes, I think I shall try and continue.

**Averna** - Thanks for the review! I'll try and update as quickly as possible!


	3. Chapter Three

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**Mage Duel**

_By Autumn Faery_

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**Disclaimer: **The glorious world of Satorias-Deles and its history, culture, and people are the work of Sherwood Smith, not I. So there. Don't sue. 

**Thank you** PhoenixMage, Wake-Robin, Lee Uma Verser, SoccerFreak2516, siriusforeva, AgentStarbuck, Margery, Mademoiselle Parfait, TlanthiRabble, Jax, legofiance, FelSong, Queen's Own, legofiance, Sailacel, and heroine007**for your ever kind reviews!**

**My thanks **to Wake-Robin, my beta-reader

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**_Chapter Three_**

I let loose a string of distasteful curses, not caring if the oh-so-suave lords heard me.

_What have I gotten my self into now? _I questioned in rage. _I am a fool!_ Oh yes, perfect: plummeting from a tree and squashing a courtier when I had just lost my memory! I groaned miserably while my entire face continued to heat. How was I to face them?

However, when the awaited laughter did not come, I gathered the last of my fleeting courage and peeked up slowly and apprehensively. To my horror, I met a pair of unreadable gray eyes.

The same man whom I gawked at a few days ago was now staring intently at me once again. His face was guarded and masked from betraying his emotions save for hints of amusement and something else too elusive to name that flickered in his eyes. I winced inwardly. Of all the lords at Court, I had to plummet into him! I already had had plenty of painfully embarrassing experiences with _him_.

"My _dear_ Meliara! What a pleasant surprise!" The sudden remark made me realize the black haired fellow beside us was grinning at me. I frowned faintly when I noticed the expression on his face was one that one would reserve for the closest of friends. The flamboyancy never left him as he praised, "I had mistaken you for a goddess banished from the sky!"

_He mocks me!_

I narrowed my eyes and snorted at his extravagant and classical praise. "I presume that's the courtly way of expressing you had mistaken me for a drunk skunk," I muttered under my breath.

The corners of his mouth deepened in amusement—_he's trying not to laugh!_ "Ah … and if you do not object, allow me to inquire what wonderful circumstance has permitted your graceful presence amongst us on this pleasant day?" All of this he queried with great drama and humor.

I snorted. "_Graceful?_ Forgive me, but your vision is horrible! Unless, of course, the irony intends to blow." I made a dueler's thrust with a spare hand, grimacing. "And you _could _be more straightforward, my lord. It's not as if I'd huff in a duff if you asked why I'd fell from a tree.

More internal laughter. "Oh? Pardon me if I cause any maladroitness—but what fares my lady on a tree?" asked he with an elegant raised brow.

That single moment, I would have done anything to disappear. My face felt hotter than a igniting Fire Stick as I answered in a weak, somewhat squeaky voice, "I—ah—was saving a kitten trapped on the tree, stepped on a patch of fresh moss and—" I trailed off when I heard a choke of laughter. I stole quick looks at their faces and realized lips were pressed and faces were tight in praiseworthy attempts of avoiding outright laughter.

I sighed sharply. "Hah! Laugh if you will! I wager you can't wait to share your latest gossip. How wondrouslyexciting!" My voice was full of snide enthusiasm, and I snapped my next words at the lord holding me: "And why not set me down so you can chat with your _proper_ lords and ladies about how rustic the Countess of Tlanth is?" Despite of my nasty tone, I felt my face redden even more at thought of having spent such a lengthy interlude in his arms.

I waited for the men to quip a court-styled insult and leave me by myself to seethe, but to my surprise, they laughed sincerely with merriment and mirth. I stared stupidly at their amused faces as the fair-haired lord murmured in a deep voice filled with laughter, "As you wish, Lady Meliara." He set me gently on the ground.

"Care to enlighten me what's so funny, my lords?" I demanded crossly when my confusion and embarrassment melted away. Crossing my arms, I shot them an angry glare.

They immediately took note of my anger. "Dearest Meliara, it was treacherous of us to provoke you. Please accept our sincerest apologies," the dark haired lord declared and swept a grand bow that did not fit the current setting at all. He face, however, was all but serious. "We were simply ecstatic that you have not changed at all!"

His companion gave me a faint smile and added in a more serious voice, "We've missed you terribly, Meliara."

I sniffed. Then a new fact registered: _they know of my memory loss._ And that confused me. Were they one of those close friends Nimiar had mentioned? If not, who were they and how did they know? I couldn't possibly ask their _esteemed lordships_ for their names, not if I'm already supposed to know them. I felt the panic settling in me as I began making up ridiculous excuses.

My thoughts must have reflected on my face, because as if he read my mind, the fair lord gave me a graceful bow and said in a very smoothly pleasant voice, "Vidanric Renselaeus, and my companion, Russav of Savona. Delighted and honored to make your re-acquaintance, Lady Meliara."

_Renselaeus._

Oh yes, Lady Nimiar had mentioned him: Lord Vidanric, the Marquis of Shevraeth, heir to the principality of Renselaeus, and the next king of Ramalna. Well. _That _explained why he and his peer knew of my affliction. I almost sighed in relief.

Yet the very moment he had said his name, an overwhelming, unknown mixture of emotions washed through me. My head dizzied as I looked straight into his eyes of soft gray and questioned almost inaudibly, "You were there—you were there weren't you? When I lost … everything."

Something flickered across his face, but it was soon gone and his face was emotionless once more. Instead of answering my question, he replied firmly, "_No_, you have not lost everything, Meliara. We still stand by you, and though what you lost was precious, there's possibility it can be regained, and if not, replaced. And even if you never recuperate your memories, you have not lost the ability to make new, lasting—and equally precious—ones with your loved ones."

_But I don't even know who are the ones I love,_ I thought bitterly. _I guess I'm to find out myself._ To the Marquis of Shevraeth, I replied politely, "Thank you, My Lord."

Knowing my conversation with the two lords were over, I hoped to flee. Yet my hopes were dashed when the Duke of Savona grinned at us, and beckoned me ahead with a smooth wave of his hand. "Care to honor us by joining our stroll, Meliara?"

Seeing no polite way out, I gave a small, reluctant nod. Smiling in response, the Duke continued, "Now, why don't we discuss lighter topics? Say, Lady Renna is hosting yet another a horse race …"

Very soon the three of us were strolling and talking amiably. Though at first I was rather hesitant to join the conversation lest I make another social mistake. However, the two stayed on easy topics that I was able to join with no obstacle, and we conversed from horse racing to art and music.

From time to time, Savona would praise me with outrageous comments like _"Your beauteous hair puts even the summer to shame, and makes us all long for autumn!"_ or _"I swear not even the intense blue sky can compete with your eyes!"_ Yet from his over-exaggerated tone, I knew he was not serious and learned to tolerate the remarks. And after a while I stopping wanting to hurl something heavy at Savona, and laughed instead for the first time in days.

The Marquis, on the over hand, was agreeable and extremely polite. From time to time, he would make a dry and witty remark. But nevertheless, he seemed guarded and aloof. If Nee's accounts were true, I secretly wondered how I was able to rescue an entire country with this reserved man.

When we came near a main path, I was surprised when the Duke suddenly turned to face us. "Forgive me, but I am claimed by imperative events this afternoon. Hence with deep regret, I must now take my leave." But instead of regretful, his tone was deep with suppressed laughter. He even directed a smug smile at Shevraeth. I stole a glance at the man by my side—and saw nothing save the same smooth face.

"Ah, and my lady," Savona turned to address me. "I look forward to our next encounter with the foremost anticipation." He took my hand, pressed it gently against his lips, and left, looking very—mind you, _very_—pleased with himself. I stared at his retreating figure uncomprehendingly and blinked.

Suddenly acutely aware of the debonair lord beside me, I turned somewhat abruptly and blurted out, "I'm sorry! I know; Nimiar has told me everything … well, almost everything. And I know all of you are just trying to help. It was foolish of me to wander in the gardens when I've barely found out who I am. I was mighty lucky to have met you two instead of others. I know I was stupid, but after locking my self for days, I couldn't resist being free. I—I just felt like I needed to be with nature once more; to dance with the wind; to hear reed pipes and windharps in the air—" I broke off quickly when I realized I was blabbing like an idiot, and groaned miserably. "Am I even making sense?"

His gaze on me softened, and there was comprehension in his gaze as he smiled gently—a sort of mysterious and sad smile. "No Meliara, it makes perfect sense. Please do not be apologetic." He paused and hesitated before continuing slowly, as if choosing his words with great care, "There are beautiful hills on the western border of Ramalna-city. If you do not object to my company, it shall be an honor to accompany you there, Lady Meliara."

"Hills?" I questioned faintly, excitement rising inside me. "With no courtiers lurking around the place?"

"Unless I am grievously mistaken, _court-decorations_"—he paused to grin at me—"rarely refine themselves on hills." When he said nothing else, I realized he was waiting patiently for my answer.

"My lord, you are too kind. I—" I hesitated and reminded myself of his lofty rank. "You must be—no, you _are_ very busy. Please, don't feel obligated to bother your self just for me. I've delayed you too long." Truthfully, I was not yet sure if I could trust him yet. I gave him a weak, apologetic smile.

To my surprise, he didn't smile politely and leave merrily on his way. He shook his head instead. "Not at all. In all candor, I'm to take the day off and unwind, for the workload has been monumental of late. And where could be more relaxing and refreshing than the hills?" He _seemed_ sincere—or, at least I didn't detect hints of malice in his voice.

I curtsied deeply—or rather attempted to—and grinned broadly at him. "Then what are we waiting for, my lord?"

* * *

The Marquis of Shevraeth led me to the stables, where he assured me of my laudable riding skills. The stable-hand brought me a chestnut mare and handed the Marquis a basket and cloak while he mounted on a dapple-gray. The stable-hand too looked terribly smug and omniscient, and I was on the brink of snapping at him when Shevraeth interrupted me. 

"Ready?" he asked with a polite gesture, and I gave him a weak nod, very unsure of myself. Had I made the right choice by coming with him? To be honest, I was terribly tempted by his alluring offer, but I didn't trust myself enough to make more embarrassing mistakes. _What if I fall right off of the horse?_

Noting my acquiesce, he took off. I shakily grabbed my reins and gave the horse a gentle tap with my heels. Immediately, it took off in a full-speed gallop, as if not wanting to be left behind by the Marquis and his horse.

Surprised by the horse's sudden gallop, I had not balanced my self properly. I swayed and wobbled on my mount as we caught up to the Shevraeth, who sensed my distress.

"Don't panic. Relax and keep calm," he advised steadily over the wind. "Try and keep up with the rhythm of the horse's movements."

_Hah! He makes it sound easy!_ I thought dryly, and yelled back irritably, "I'm afraid I cannot relax and keep calm when I'm swaying like a sack of vegetables!"

The corners of his mouth deepened. "Try bridging your reins," came his advise, "once it has been passed between your thumb and forefinger, it goes across your horse's neck into your other hand." I flimsily did what I was told, and he continued, "Good. Now keep your hands low, or rest them on the horse's neck if you wish."

Slowly, I gained control of my galliard mare. Though still somewhat tense, I began to feel the delight of galloping freely that seemed to awake something within me. The wild wind swishing past me was oddly exhilarating, and something about riding under the wide sky with such freedom spread a warm and pleasant feeling within me. That moment, I forget all my troubles and worries and laughed.

I soon rode side-to-side with the Marquis, and we raced through the roads, occasionally sending mud flying. How uncanny! Moments before I had been struggling for control, but an instant later I was racing with natural grace!

The neatly paved roads soon ended as we reached the east boundary of the City and met a river. I followed the Marquis and continued along the river road.

The weather beautiful and the river sparkling next to me, I observed the world like an infant gazing out to the unknown. The plain was lushly green, veiled with unruly grass and dotted with bright wild flowers of all colors. Occasionally we would pass a fruit tree with its lush branches sprawling in all directions. One could see summer was alive.

I turned my head and caught Shevraeth's gaze. His eyes were laughing as he gave me a faint smile.

And all of the sudden, an enigmatic feeling overcame me. The landscape abruptly seemed too familiar, and the presence of him too intimate—as if racing beside the next king of Ramalna had been a leisurely activity I'd indulged often. My head dizzied once again.

Beside me, the Marquis slowed his mount into a gentle trot and looked my way with unnecessary concern. "Something amiss, Meliara?" I met his gaze and shook my head weakly. My faced heated, and I determinedly returned my gaze ahead, noticing that the landscape was beginning to rise.

Embarrassment forgotten, I grinned in delight as the sight of graceful hills greeted me.

"Are we there—I mean to the hills?" I questioned gawkily with poorly contained excitement.

"Indeed those are the very hills I mentioned." His eyes were flickering with amusement at my excitement.

My face was threatening to heat once again, so I found myself scoffing, "You're not the one foolish enough to lock themselves in a room for days, and end up hiding in it anyway because they've lost their memory. It's reasonable that I should feel excited ...beyond all reason."

"Yes, it's perfect reasonable," he agreed … sincerely or wryly I never found out. Our horses stopped as we reached the foot of the hills, and the Marquis dismounted with—I couldn't help but to note—impeccable grace.

Then, one look at the hill took my breath away. "How beautiful!" I exclaimed slowly in awe. From up close, I saw that wide, ancient trees and lush vegetation covered the scenery densely. I was glad I came instantly.

"Shall we, Lady Meliara?" He offered me his arm with ball-room-elegance. Suddenly shy, I nodded and gently placed my hand on his arm.

The sunlight peeked through the ancient trees in broken rays of light as we strolled up the path. He and I soon engaged ourselves in an animated discourse on the Treaty of Seven Rivers. At one point, I burst out in laughter. When he gave me a curious look, I explained, "It amazing! I'm simply blurting out things I truly didn't know I knew! I swear I didn't know what the Treaty of Seven Rivers was this morning!"

As we reached a clearing on the top of the hill, some of my earlier shyness diminished. By then, I felt slightly more at ease with him, though I wasn't sure if I got to know him any better. I was mildly surprised, however, that the next king of Ramalna was so intelligent and agreeable—which could be considered a relief since the last one wanted my head.

When we came to the hedge of the clearing, it seemed much of Ramalna was below us; the view was majestic. Beside me, the Marquis pointed to the east and asked, "Can you see those mountains?"

I squinted slightly towards the direction and indeed: on the brink of the landscape were faint contours of proud mountains, soaring into the sky. "There the Piaum River ends," he gestured at the river parallel to us. "The woods in those mountains are secluded and magnificent, the very woods where you summoned the legendary Hill Folk and battled your forty wagoneers. I sincerely wish circumstance permitted us to travel there, but alas, it takes about a three-day journey on horse."

I nearly choked as his words. "Don't jest!" I retorted. "It would take _one_ out of the forty of them to knock the winds out of me. Ugh … please don't destroy the little self-appreciation I've got left by telling me _I_ had told you this. If I did, I must have been a lying, bombastic fool."

"No … I assure you Meliara that you were—and you are—a heroine." His voice shook with suppressed laughter. He then caught my eyes and murmured, "You are simply too modest."

I felt myself color slightly and quickly looked at the ground. "And you, my lord, is far too indulging." When I looked up again, he was mock frowning at me.

"And _I_ thought you trusted me enough to rid all the formalities. It would please me greatly if you would address me by my name. Just my name, and none of my titles," he propounded.

This time, my entire face flushed. I laughed a little awkwardly and apologized, "Pardon me, I was being terribly rude. After all, I should grateful—which I am. Without you and your family, my brother and I would have lost our heads. Nimiar—Nee, told me. We must have trusted you very much." Despite the little speech, I wasn't sure if I really should starting calling the future king by his name.

It seemed my expression betrayed my thoughts once more, for he smiled oddly at me—a mysterious smile that seemed to contain wry irony, humor, and emotions too well masked to be categorized. Then, changing the subject, he questioned, "May I assume you have not had your lunch yet?

I nodded.

He raised the basket in one hand. "My sincerest apologies for delaying your lunch, but I did bring food to indulge." He moved to the grassier area and sat down as gracefully as if we were in a social affair or dinner party. "Care to join me?"

I sat down in the opposite direction as he opened the basket to reveal several sandwiches, all of which were neatly cut in triangles, and fruits. There were even apple tarts and a carefully sealed jar of cider. After I arranged myself comfortably, I gave a small chuckle. "Savona shall be devastated to knew he had ditched us to miss a wonderful picnic in a marvelous setting." I gave a small wave at the view around us before adding in a slightly puzzled voice, "Though … I fail to understand why he looked so positively smug …"

"Amongst with many, many other things, you would have to address that question to him someday," he replied ambiguously and explained no further.

We ate in a comfortable silence, until my eyes fell on the ring on my finger. Instantly, I lost my appetite. _Should I ask him? It seems harmless enough since he knows of my affliction._ "Vidanric?" I carefully asked.

My apprehension seemed to have amused him, for he replied with a laughing voice, "I am entirely at your disposal."

"I—do you if I was—I—I was not _betrothed_ before I lost my memory, was I?" I questioned in a small voice. I looked down at the beautiful but enigmatic ring and continued. "You seem to know me very well indeed. It _would_ help somewhat—and relieve a lot of humiliation and awkwardness—if you could tell me the name of my future husband—if I am betrothed that is. Though, I find the idea mortifying."

"Mortifying?" his tone was suddenly abnormally unaffected and bland.

"Well, forgetting who I'm to marry is one thing, but forgetting _everything_ about the one I'm marrying is another. It would be like marrying a _stranger_. Life … I don't think I can do it if some fellow suddenly appeared the next day and insisted that we marry. I already have to deal with this memory loss. I don't know if I can deal with marriage too. I guess I need time—lots and lots of it."

"You portray your betrothed with the semblance of a mindless fop." Should his tone not be so gentle and kind, I'd have thought him accusing. "How do you know he'll just appear suddenly and insist you marry? What faith you have in your union! Do you not trust your previous judgment at all? Your betrothal's not arranged in anyway; it was met by mutual agreement. If you're ill-prepared, he'll already understand." His tone was quiet and guarded, his countenance curiously smooth.

"And how would you know?"

This time he smiled ruefully and explained patiently, "I know this _fellow_ very well. Trust me."

I slowly looked and saw an assessing gaze and a face suppressed of emotions. I fidgeted slightly under his unwavering stare before replying, "Thank-you. I _do_ hope my betrothed understands me as well as you seem to."

Though his face was still guarded, this time he smiled and bowed.

For reminder of the time, we conversed amiably in lighter subjects until the sun began to set behind us.

"I fear it's late." The Marquis gestured to the sunset. "Nee and Bran shall get frantic if we do not return soon … and _Russav_"—he stretched the Duke's name in a rather irritated manner—"will no doubt think something is up."

"Is His Grace always like that?"

"Your meaning?" He raised a brow, his gray eyes questioning.

I hesitated before answering, "He seems rather … _overtly_ _devious_." I then quickly added, "No offence to His Esteemed Grace, of course." Instantly, I regretted my words. Surely, the Marquis will be infuriated, for the Duke appears to be his cousin from their earlier conversation.

However, when I looked at the lord as we gathered everything for our leave, I saw only amusement present in his eyes as he replied blandly, "If you're to tell him that someday, it shall no doubt be a blow to what poor Russav thinks as surreptitious beneficiary."

I laughed at that, but shivered as a chilly evening breeze passed us. The cloak I wore was quite thin. Suddenly, I felt hands gently brush past my shoulders—the Marquis had placed his sturdy black cloak around me.

"The weather has turned quite unagreeably cold," he murmured softly, but said nothing more.

I was taciturn as we made our way down the hill.

* * *

That night, I lay in my bed and pondered over the strange and awkward conversation Lord Vidanric and I had shared. Under the dim light of a glow globe by my bedside, the ring still glittered beautifully. 

His answer was most definitely ambiguous, but he seemed heavily inclined to hint a betrothal. More confused than ever, I reflected his words over and over again until I recalled something tucked away safely in a corner of my mind for the past few days—

My eyes widened.

Without another thought, I scrambled out of my bed and raced to Nee's tapestry. Before I could stop my self, I tapped urgently, then grimaced when I realized I had made yet another social mistake. Surely the lady would find me rude and grotesque when she's disturbed from her peaceful slumber? I bit back a groan. Again, I had acted before my thoughts.

"Mel?" Garbed a nightdress similar to my own, Nee appeared moments later, mildly surprised. She quickly covered her astonishment and smiled warmly. "Why, come in!" She invited me into a rose colored room and gestured for me to sit down. I made myself comfortable in a cushion as she did the same.

"I'm so sorry!" I immediately apologized. "It's foolish and rude of me to disturb you during late hours." I felt cheeks heat with shame. "I don't know what had gotten into—"

"Mel," she interrupted gently. "I meant every word when I told you your presence is always welcome." She laughed softly and opened her hands. "Please, what may I do for you?"

"Something really disturbs me. You are one of the very few that I can bring myself to trust since—oh never mind that."

"Oh? What troubles you?" her tone was concerned.

I squashed my ambivalent thoughts and decided to pour out the truth. Placing my hand—the one with the ring—in front of her, I questioned apprehensively, "Please tell me I'm not betrothed? If so... who is it? I think I have a few ideas … but—" I trailed of when I noticed Nimiar was struggling to constrain her laughter. So she finds the fact that I'm ignorant of my own engagement amusing? I couldn't help but to feel somewhat hurt.

"Oh Mel!" she gasped out. "If only you came to me earlier! It would have spared you from all the worry and ambiguity!"

Impatient, I urged, "What? What! Tell me!"

"That ring is no engagement ring," she began, and I felt a rush of relief flood through me. "You received it on your Name Day, after your arrival at Court. The sender, unknown. Unless …"

"Unless?" I echoed.

"Unless you did know the secret sender, but never informed me. Though, it is not likely. You were as confused as I by the enigmatic ring."

I allowed time for the information to sink in—and found confusion replaced by anger.

_The nerve of him!_ I thought angrily, thinking of the Marquis of Shevraeth and his blandly smiling and unreadable face. So indeed, I was not betrothed! But he had led me to believe there _was _betrothal—to what? _Confuse me_, I decided firmly. _Maybe it's a type of aristocratic amusement to deceive unfortunate_—_and amnesic_—_souls._

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**AN: **Well, I hope the chapter was kind of enjoyable. It's the longest I'vewritten so far. (Yes, my aim is long chapters.) I'm sorry if things weren't really fluffy, but because I still have a long plot in front of me, I can't make things progress too fast. (And to be honest, I'm not very talented at writing fluff , nor do I particular enjoy it when things get too cheesy.) So yes, for now, you'll have to make do with subtlety and (hopefully) witty conversations. 

_Don't forget to review! Please?_


	4. Chapter Four

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**Mage Duel**

_By Autumn Faery_

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**Disclaimer: **What do you think? Of course I own nothing! Why else would I be languishing on Fanfic . net ?

**Big thanks to my lovely reviewers **: PhoenixMage, Wake-Robin, the blonde kid, ShannonLynn, legofiance, FelSong, AgentStarbuck, Linzadoodle, paradox01, MysticRainbow, Queen's Own, sando, Aeriel Ravenna, pingpong867, aurelione, legofiance, trina-k, Anonymous, Jowa, Sailacel, and Em

**And of course, thank you **Wake-Robin!

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**Chapter Four**

I was in a dark void.

It reminded me so much of the endless spread of nothingness before my awakening that I shivered uncontrollably. Only this time, despite the darkness, there was an acute sense of _awareness_.

"So we meet again, Countess." The smooth, pleasant male voice out of nowhere made me gasp sharply.

"Wh—who are you?" I demanded, feeling my pulse quicken.

My question was ignored. "Just remember, Meliara: _it's not over_," the voice told me instead. His tone was mild and calm, yet I felt a sense of forebodingness and threat—like trepidation during the calm before a storm.

"I'm afraid I don't understand," I shakily replied, confusion mounting.

"Meliara, Meliara," the speaker chided with a laughing voice, "your ignorance is ever refreshing. Can't you see you haven'ttriumphed—and never will?"

I stiffened—before anger flooded through me. "Oh, just shut your vile mouth!" I retorted loudly. "I haven't the patience with your blasted threats—whoever you are. Throw out all the death curses you wish, but I doubt they'd do any good!"

He laughed. "Is that so? Well, we shall see, Meliara. We shall see. It _is_ only beginning."

His dreadful words echoed mercilessly in my mind until at length it began to fade and disappear. But to my horror, it was immediately replaced by an entirely difference voice, loud and boisterous,

"—And I shall tear down your tapestry if you do not speak to me this instant, Mel!"

Say, _what_?

I breathed sharply as my eyes snapped open. Wiping beads of cold sweat from my forehead, I sighed sharply, relieved to find myself in the somewhat familiar presence of my room. Before I could reflect on my strange dream, however, a loud tapping and an irritating voice outside greeted me,

"Mel, this is no jest. Talk to me, or I am coming in!" the voice barked.

"Yes—yes, my lady," another voice—this time milder and aged—agreed, "we shall break in if we have to! Forgive us, but your well-being is our foremost concern."

"Ugh! That's it! I'm coming in!" the first speaker growled.

Letting out a thoroughly frustrated noise, I hastily threw a shawl around my nightgown and rushed to the tapestry. "Life! Stop acting as drunk as four skunks! Half of the Residence has most likely been awaken by your tumultuous cries! I'm coming, all right?" I nearly shouted back.

"Oh," was all I heard before I flapped the tapestry open and faced an elderly woman in servant attire and … _my brother_. I felt myself stiffen. I had never seen the woman before, and I hadn't spoken to my brother since the day I denied of ever knowing him. What would they say?What was _I _suppose to say?_ Forgive me Brother, but even though I really don't know you, lets still be siblings! _did not sound very pleasing to me.

My thoughts were broken when the woman suddenly spoke in a voice full of shuttering relief, "Oh, milady! You refused to see me for days, and look how frail you are." Her aged face was wrinkled in concern, and I saw that she was wringing her slender hands with apprehension.

I felt the need to apologize. "I'm sorry"—_life, what's her name?_—"I'll try not to be a lamentable worry from now on." I offered her a pathetic attempt at a smile.

In response the elderly woman's features broke into a truly relieved smile. "Lady Nimair spoke the truth. You are indeed still Lady Meliara—the same kind and amiable Meliara!" She into a deep curtsy and continued, "I'm Mora, your maidservant. For now, I'll leave you with Lord Branaric." She smiled briefly at me and left.

"Was I really that loud?"

I turned to face the red haired Count of Tlanth. "You can always hide for the day if furious courtiers decides to hunt you down for disturbing their peaceful slumber," I suggested.

Branaric grinned sheepishly and protested, "But I was sick with concern!"

"And I, dear Brother, was only sleeping," I remarked dryly.

"Ah, yes. I should have thought about that." He paused a moment before adding thoughtfully, "It is quite early … Actually Sister, what candle is it currently?"

"Second-white, almost first-gold."

He winced. "Burn it. You see, I normally don't even stir this early, but I didn't sleep a wink last night. Came to hunt you down as soon as I could." He paused a second before adding with a rueful smile, "You know, I guess I should really consider your suggestion—"

"I highly recommend that you do."

"—I can picture Tamara screaming her delicate head off at me quite vividly. I certainly cannot face that kind of terror," he finished, and we found ourselves grinning foolishly before enveloping each other in a tight hug.

"Life, Sister! I've missed you so!" I heard him whisper fiercely into my hair, and I smiled gently. _I can definitely grow to love this brother_.

"Though," he remarked, breaking the sentient mood, "I cannot help but to wonder: since when have you gotten so satirical? I must say, some of Danric's dry humor is rubbing off on you, dear sister!"

I hit his arm and glared at him half-heartedly.

* * *

The next few weeks consisted of hard, frustrating, but interesting days. Often I found myself not knowing whether to laugh or cry. All my time was spent adjusting to Court, and indeed, it was quite an experience. 

To my dismay, my days always began with Bran barging into my rooms and dragging me out of bed. Forever full with enthusiasm, he would then bring me to early-morning sword practice with a bright smile plastered on his face.

The first time Bran pulled me to the garrison courtyard, the sound of swords clinging immediately greeted me. Having not been told beforehand where we were headed, I shot my brother a questioning look.

Bran grinned cheekily back. "Mel, I thought you would know! I'm bringing you to sword practice! After all, you're probably out of polish. Danric is there, and it'll be a good opportunity for him to teach you some new tricks—it'll come in handy the next time you carry out heroic measures to save the kingdom!"

"_Bran_!" I nearly screeched, my mood ruined. "That I will _not _do!"

_Here come the whole Heroine-thing_, I thought dismally. _I don't even remember how to hold a sword, but expectation will continue to weigh on me._

"Now, now. Mel, stop being difficult!" Bran gave me a half-hearted glare. "I actually managed to rise this early, and you'll not put my efforts to waste." He paused to smile cheerfully again, "Come now, you've always loved sword play!"

So it was, every morning we would practice until second-gold. The usual ones present included a number of soldiers from Renselaeus, the Duke of Savona, the Marquis, Lady Renna, and occasionally few other lords. Sometimes, Nee, along with a genteel, brown-haired lady, would watch. Lord Vidanric was almost present every single morning. Bran told me that he often trained the soldiers himself.

I plainly felt awful during the first few sessions. Unskilled, I usually abased my self by losing whenever I was challenged to a duel. It was even worse if my opponent praised something along the lines of _It's such of an honor to duel with the heroine of Remalna!_ before the bout. After the end of our duel—with me as the loser, of course—my cheeks would burn. At one point, I was so embarrassed and weary I considered avoiding sword practice all together.

Yet I didn't avoid it soon enough: Lord Vidanric challenged me to a friendly bout before I could make an escape. To preserve the little vogue I had, I accepted resignedly.

"All right," I sighed, facing him, "I guess I shall try my best not to be annihilated to an amorphous mass once you're finished with me."

The Marquis raised a brow, his eyes bright. "Perhaps, Meliara, the outcome shall surprise you." I felt my eyes narrow with confusion and suspicion.

Once we chose our standing ground and distance, he and I faced one another in opposite directions. We bowed, and on the word "commence", we were off.

To my surprise, he didn't choose to finish me off right away. Instead, he attacked with moves I knew how to block. His eyes flickered to my face as he said in a casual voice, "You honor us, Meliara, with your presence."

"You should present your accolade to Bran, since it was he who dragged me here, rather against by will—albeit an lazy one."

There was a strangely familiar gleam in his eyes when he replied, "Yes, but a copious number of us would've stayed in bed, had we went through your ordeal. The truth: I admire your perseverance." I didn't know what to make of his compliment—if that was what it was in essence.

Up to this point, I was rather ambivalent regarding my feelings towards the Marquis of Shevraeth. He had been kind (taking me to the hills), but I also had a feeling he's hiding something from me. For example, he had seemed to hint at an engagement, yet there clearly wasn't one—or was there? Had he been playing with my afflicted memory? Or was Nee tricking me? Or—I gave up. Confusion was going to cloud my mind and impair my performance.

Out loud, I simply noted, "You're going easy on me." My tone implied that he was insulting me.

The corners of his mouth quirking, he bowed slightly. "Very well."

Before I could blink, thrusts and cuts of alarming speed came towards my direction. Stumbling back, my first reaction was sheer dismay as I tried to block his attacks. _Well, I asked for it_.

"Try not to be bothered by the speed of the blade," Shevraeth murmured while he attacked on with natural grace, "look for certain patterns; study the position of my arm; predict my next move; stay light and alert on your feet."

"Hah! I doubt I have _any_ chances as far as I can throw the castle," I muttered, but listened to him anyways.

"Good. You're holding on well," he remarked. "Now, tell me, do you see an opening?"

"No … "

"Look closer. It seems there is no opening, for my sword moves fast. However, concentrate enough, and you shall see that when I shift into different positions all at once, a number of openings is there."

My eyes narrowed, continuing to block his blade. And then, there it was.

When his arm extended out slightly, I swiftly—at least, as swiftly as I could—switched from defense mode to offense. Thrust my blade under, I heaved it up—and along came the Marquis' sword, flying to the ground with a _clung!_

"Oh. I shouldn't have done that," I murmured weakly, for we weren't really dueling. Who has conversations and exchanges of advice during a duel?

By now everyone had stopped their bouts, and turned to us. I felt my face heat, and was rather helpless. What was I to say? _I'm sorry, but we weren't dueling, and I wasn't supposed to do that?_

Instead, I turned to the Marquis. "I'm sorry," I offered lamely.

He smiled humorously, and astonished me by clapping soundly. Soon, the whole courtyard rang with applause. Hopelessly embarrassed, I attempted to hide behind Bran, who had approached me.

"You know, Lord Vidanric could've finished me before I could blink," I told my brother, "but for some strange reason, he had decided to converse with me, and then basically tell me _how_ and _allow_ me win."

Bran grinned. "But you must admit, Mel, that Danric is awfully ingenious. He had managed to give you an impromptu sword lesson and boost your confidence all in a single mock duel."

* * *

"Walled Circle Mode." Nee watched closely as I arched my fan in a circular motion. 

"Good. How about Within the Circle?" I reversed my fan gesture, and Nee smiled brightly. "I knew you would learn well! You'll do wonderfully tonight."

Despite how nervousness and pounding heart, I replied to her kind words with a smile, "Thank you Nee, you've been the best of teachers." She returned my smiled while Mora, the elderly lady from the other day, combed and styled my hair with praise-worthy skill.

Tonight I would to face the entire Court for the first time, for there's a ball in honor of Lord Vidanric and I for our victory against the Merindars. Naturally I'd be expected and anticipated by all, so there's really no choice but to attend. For the past weeks, Nee had equipped me with the rules of etiquette and introduced me cryptically to most of the courtiers. Thus, she's convinced that I would not make any social blunders. But I had my doubts.

After helping me garb in a ball gown of sapphire blue inlaid with the most delicate designs in silver and sprinkled with little snowstones, Mora intertwined my long hair with white roses and exquisite silver ribbons.

"My lady!" she exclaimed afterwards, stepping back to examine her handiwork in a pleased manner. "You look like an immortal from the night sky! Deep blue with silver is a pleasing combination indeed!"

I flushed. Laughing, I waved my hands in a dismissive manner. "No, no, Mora. I'm too short, scrawny, and figureless to be any great beauty—or an ideal Court lady.

By my side, Nee shook her head. "No, that's what makes you special: You're not another mindless replica of the 'perfect lady'. Come now, we must take our leave."

We met up with Bran outside the tapestry. He offered us each an arm, and remarked how lovely we were. Nee looked adoringly at him as he smiled back. _They are indeed in love_, I thought almost wistfully. _Will I ever experience what they have?_

As we reached the stairway, they stopped.

"Mel, 'fraid we can't accompany you any farther," Bran explained merrily. "You and Danric are the guests of honor, so you must continue down the hall to the stairway above the ball room. He will be waiting for you there to open the ball. Don't worry; it'll take only a moment. Nee and I will be waiting below." I nodded numbly.

True to Bran's words, the hallway led me to a gallery above an enormous ballroom festooned in the greens and golds of Remalna. Then in front of the grand stairway, his pale hair magnificently against his dark outfit, was the Marquis of Shevraeth. He bowed in a fluid, graceful motion as I approached.

"Lady Meliara, may I have the honor of commending your radiant appearance?" He took my hand and I felt the warm brush of his lips.

"If my appearance is what you would call radiant," I replied, striving to sound normal. "I'm sure the ladies below shall hopelessly outshine me and blind you with their beauty."

He gave mea quick grin as music began drifting to my ears. Taking that as a queue, I gently placed my hand on his arm and we began descending the grand stairs. I tried vainly not to pay attention to the glittering mass below.

"Then I shall stay with you." His soft whisper drew my attention from the fluttering of my stomach. "For I wouldvery much wishto save my poor eyes."

Unable to restrain my self, I made another crack, "As you wish, my lord. Shall I fetch my sword and armor and fight off all the blindness-inducing-beauties as well?"

His eyes narrowed in mirth, but before he could reply, we were at the bottom of the stairs.

All of the sudden, my humor evaporated. Under the scrutinizing gazes of elaborately dressed courtiers, I immediately wished to cower away. I felt lightheaded with nervous as Vidanric extended his hand to me for the first dance.

"Don't mind the stares," he told me as we twirled. "Many are anticipative to get a good glimpse of you since your long absence. After all, you've saved Remalna twice."

"I did?" I murmured as we twirled amongst dazzling swirls of color and light and enchanting music. I felt my uneasiness slowly melt away, and found myself saying, "Oh! This is quite nice."

"Is that an compliment to my cousin Russav, our gracious host? Or do you mean to commend the artisans and their work on the marvelous setting? … Or are your words of a different nature entirely?"

_Huh?_ I caught his gaze and saw the dancing laughter—and belatedly realized my words had rather inappropriately romantic implications. Grimacing, I shut my eyes and willed my embarrassment away. When I was sure I was not going to break out blushing, I glanced back at his face and resorted to anger rather than hopeless awkwardness. "Take it however you want," I snapped. _Here goes social blunder number one._

Then abruptly, a fine pair of green eyes caught my attention. I refocused my vision—and noticed an uncannily beautiful lady standing by a chimerical garden … _studying_ me. When I caught her gaze, she gave me a strange smile.

"Are you all right?" Vidanric's voice brought my attention back.

"Who's that lady?" I asked. "The one standing alone by the in-door garden."

His eyes followed my gaze. "Ah. That's Her Grace, Lelaine Draelian, the Duchess of Orinthe, an old northern duchy. She's a new arrival at Court."

I wondered why such a beautiful duchess had never been to Court before, but didn't know how to voice my question. Instead, I nodded politely and changed the subject. Vidanric seemed glad of the change as well.

After our dance, I was claimed by a number of smiling, pleasant partners as the night began to wear on. My anxiety also began to fade as I completed dance after dance, somehow managing the difficult dance steps with grace. To my relief, I made no more social mistakes after my rudeness with Vidanric.

I retired to the refreshment table after the particularly lively but tiring Galliard. Helping myself with a glass of cider, I turned and realized that Lady Tamara was beside me. She, however, did not notice my presence, for her attention was elsewhere. Beneath the rim of her cup, she glared sharply at something. Following her glare, I found the dancing figures of Vidanric and the Duchess of Orinthe, who smiled at him serenely. I took this moment to study her.

Green eyed and chestnut haired, she was definitely a beauty. Her gown, the same shade as her eyes, showed off her good figure as she practically floated on the dance floor with calm and grace. "She's going to be quite a catch," I mused out loud, "a duchess and a beauty."

Tamara's head snapped toward me and gave me a look just as sharp. "I would watch her carefully if I were you, Countess." She turned back to them. "She's after Vidanric— plain as day."

"Oh." I didn't know what to say except look closer at the Duchess. Yet her calm, gracious manner and polite smile gave nothing away.

"And by the crooked look in her eyes," Tamara continued, "she wants more than his heart and the crown."

Her words made me shiver more than I wished.

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**AN: **

_You know what to do: Review!_

Thank you sooo much to ALL that reviewed the last chapter. I've been so busy, so those kind, funny, and encouraging reviews were the only things that made it worthwhile to update. Thank so much again everyone!

I honestly hope this chapter wasn't too disappointing. I wrote it in a hurry. As for those that can't wait for fluff, all I can say that they will come at the end. This isn't a short story. I've got a whole plot planned out--yes, at one point Mel will beforced on the hopby evil monarch-wanna-be mages while Danric raise an army to prepare for war. Hence, please be patient! I hope with all of your help, I can finish this.


	5. Chapter Five

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**Mage Duel**

_By Autumn Faery_

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**Disclaimer:** Unless I'm Sherwood Smith's alter ego, I own obsolutely none of the world of Crown Duel. Remember that--it'll save both you and I a great deal of fuss. 

**Thank you to the following for their lovely reviews:** _Rane292007, PhoenixMage, Wake-Robin, Skye Renegarde, legofiance, Meliara Astiar, FelSong, LJstagflower4e, baddums, Angie5, Lady of Messaline, Anonymous, siriusforeva, melancholy-autumn08, mvf, nebula, Sharms, fuzzfurry, Sailacel, hydrangea, anna, bob, Adalon Ithilriel_

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_**Chapter 5**_

"Life …" Bran muttered. He raked his hands through his hair and looked at me, his countenance betraying badly hidden frustration. "Mel, are you sure you know _what_ you're doing?"

I stared at the concerned faces of Bran and Nee and nodded vehemently. "Yes! It's for the best that your wedding must not be delayed."

"But you must realize, Mel, that things have changed drastically since—"

"—Since nothing," I interrupted. "_Nothing_"—since when had I gotten so repetitive?—"in entire Sator should devoid you two of your happiness." I smiled as bravely as I could before adding, "Besides, it would make _me_ happy to witness such joyous occasion."

Nee came forth and hugged me warmly. I noticed her eyes were moist. "Oh, Mel. How lucky am I to gain a sister like you! You must understand that Bran and I know you mean well, but consider this: how can we be truly happy in Tlanth, knowing we've left you behind—alone?"

"Why—" Bran appeared to be deep in thought. "Mel, you should come to Tlanth with Nee and me!"

"And ruin your privacy?" I scoffed. "No Bran, that'll not do." Sighing in exasperation, I extended my hands and tried again, "It's the best interest for all of us if the wedding precedes as according to plan. Imagine the talk and gossip and speculation it'll bring if it is delayed. Eventually, word of our—situation will get out to some nosy courtier." I placed my hands on their shoulders. "Trust me, I'll be fine."

Bran sighed in defeat as his whole body slumped. He looked suddenly thoroughly tired—which simply convinced me, more than anything, that he deserved a break.

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The next month passed by in a flurry as Bran and Nee's wedding drew nearer and nearer with each day.

During this time I saw and spoke to little people, occupying myself with the complicated details of Nee's wedding ceremony and the celebration ball afterwards. Lady Elenet—the recently named Duchess of Grumareth and Nee's long-time friend—and I agreed, and were put in charge (though I had a hard time convincing a worried Nee that I was perfectly healthy and able for the responsibility) of all the planning. Artistically talented, Lady Elenet assigned herself the tasks of designing everything. I, completely un-endowed on the other hand, busied myself with the more diplomatic responsibilities, such as making sure invitations are properly sent out and interviewing the musicians that would be performing. Needless to say, the Duchess and I rested little, working from dawn to midnight almost everyday that month. Who knew there would be so much work! But I wanted Bran and Nee's wedding to be perfect, and so did she.

I certainly got to spend a huge portion of my day with Lady Elenet during this month. As the days passed, however, I did not get to know her any better. Polite, quiet, and guarded were my first impressions of her—and those impressions stayed. More than one occasion, she left me wondering if my character was seriously flawed. Why else would she be so distant around me?

One afternoon, we both finished astonishingly early—before dinner, in fact. I glanced in Elenet's direction and asked, "Would you like to take a walk in the gardens? We've fine weather today."

She gave me one of her usual passive smiles and replied in a gentle voice, "It … would be a pleasure, Lady Meliara."

The gardens of Athanarel were more breath taking than usual. We spent the first few moments of our walk in silence, each admiring the view, for everything was in the height of their beauty. Midsummer's Eve was fast approaching.

"It was a good idea when Nee suggested an outdoor wedding," I noted, leaning towards a rose bush to take in the pleasing aroma, "since the gardens are absolutely gorgeous this time of season."

At the mention of Nee, Elenet smiled sincerely. "She'll be radiant on her wedding day, bathed in the bright sun."

"And in that _stunning_ gown you've designed for her," I added flamboyantly with huge grin, and continued jokingly, "Too bad I'll never get to wear something like that. Perhaps that'll be my life-long regret."

At my words, she declined her head modestly, but looked confused after a moment. "If you like my designs so, I'd be more than honored to help with your own wedding."

I resisted the urge to frown, and replied in a perhaps over light tone, "My wedding? No, I think I'll end up a spinster."

"If there be a spinster, it would be me."

I shook my head at the absurdity of our subject of conversation, and replied in a bright voice, "Well, if so, at least we won't be _lonely_ spinsters. We ought to visit each others often—Oh!—and invite ourselves to Tlanth in order to pester Nee's poor children."

"Ah—_what?_" Elenet managed to exclaim in an uncharacteristic manner before we both erupted in laughter.

But something hit me that moment: I didn't know what my future was, or what I would do with myself after Bran and Nee's wedding. I would truly be lonely, for unlike Elenet, I would not have Grumareth and its people to occupy myself with. Tlanth would become the duty and Bran and Nee alone, and—and it would no longer be _home_.

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Beneath an oak tree, which symbolizes the power of forever, Bran and Nee, their hands in each other's grasp, exchanged their ring vows:

"I, Nimiar, give this ring to thee, Branaric, my heart and my love, in promise of my fidelity, devotions, care, and love. And from this day forward nothing—hardships nor poverty—shall break our immortal bond." Nee slipped a gold band engraved with leaves on Bran's hand. She looked celestial and elegant in a gown (designed by Elenet) of the classic style from the reign of the Calahanras. It had a high waistline, from which several layers of pristine white skirts, all in different shades, flowed out naturally, flattering her curves. The whole gown was accented with gems and laces of pale green and delicate embroideries of spring flowers.

"And I, Branaric, give this ring to thee, Nimiar, my heart and my love, in promise of my fidelity, devotions, care, and love. And from this day forward nothing—hardships nor poverty—shall break our immortal bond." I marveled at the power of such simple declarations as Bran gently placed the ring on Nee's finger.

And thus, they were husband and wife. The atmosphere was almost magical; tears piled in my eyes to my embarrassment, making my vision rather blurred.

The Court clapped politely as Bran and Nee leaned in for a kiss, but I—perhaps my mind dizzied with joy—ignored etiquette, stood up from my seat, and clapped and cheered heartily, literally grinning from ear to ear. I didn't bother to gaze around for the Court's reaction, but a brief moment later, Vidanric and Elenet stood and joined me. At this, all the lords and ladies mirrored our actions, many clapping enthusiastically and sincerely.

When the ceremony was over, blessings and well wishes were bestowed upon the Count and Countess of Tlanth as everyone moved to the ball held afterwards. I waited to be the last to reach them.

"Oh Bran, I'm so happy for you—not every man is lucky enough to be blessed with someone like Nee," I told my brother as I embraced him. He grinned lopsidedly in agreement.

When Bran and I broke the hug, I turned to Nee. Kissing her cheek, I whispered, "Take good care of Bran for me. And don't you even _think_ about avoiding me when the baby—"

Nee interrupted me, laughing, "Life Mel, you're making me blush. Come, let us open the ball."

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"Allow me to be honored by offering my congratulations on your brother's highly successful match, Countess."

The pleasant and serene voice made me tear my gaze from the gliding figures of my brother and his wife to meet the beautiful green orbs of Lady Lelaine, who was garbed this time in an elaborate gold silk gown. She took a seat beside me.

Not really paying attention to her earlier words, I nodded absently. "Thank you, Lady Lelaine."

She smiled smoothly at me and inquired in a sincere tone, "And will you grant me the joy and anticipation of knowing your own wedding is fast approaching? I'd very much like to be present on the occasion."

I held back a snort. "No, I'm sorry to disappoint your grace, but no such event has been planned."

The Duchess frowned. "Surely not!" she exclaimed with surprise. "Countess Meliara Astiar of Tlanth, heroine to the whole kingdom, is not betrothed?"

I opened my mouth to correct that I was no longer the Countess of Tlanth, nor should she consider me a "heroine". But I stopped when a sudden realization hit me.

She was mocking me.

Of course she'd known that I was no longer Countess of Tlanth; it was blatantly obvious. And the "heroine to the whole kingdom" was just thrown in to make everything even more sardonic.

I fought back anger when I realized her comment about Bran's "highly successful match" was spoken for the same effect.

A translation of her pretty remarks: You and your brother are nothing but unworthy rustics.

"I do not feel well. Perhaps fresh air will help," I lied through my teeth and gave Lelaine my best Tamara-smile. Without another word, I left the ballroom, feeling strangely drained and tired.

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**Press the lovely little button and review? Please? Also, is there anyone who's willing to be my beta reader? Pathetic little me make an average of one error per sentence, and desperately need an editor. (Preferably your grammar should be better than mine).**

**Okie, here are the individual replies (oh wow, I've got a lot to answer):**

Rane292007: err … yeah, I did update, albeit it's 4 month late. Sorry! Thanks for the review.

PheonixMage: lol. You know what, I think I suck at creating evil characters! The moment she appeared, you knew she was evil. Pft. There goes "subtlety". Your suggestion is definitely very put-in-the-story-worthy. Look for it in the next or so chapter! Thanks for the awesome review!

Wake-Robin: Glad you were overjoyed. hugs Sorry about the failure to update sooner.

Skye Renegarde: Luv your pen-name:D lol, my grammar is NOT fine. sigh I re-read the chapters and CRINGED all the way soon. Thanks for the review!

Legofiance: cough I've really disappointed you, eh? winces Sorry! But really, it your importunities that convinced me to go back to this story after my hard drive died.

Meliara Astiar: Hello! Thanks for your compliment. Glad my writing style is not boring and over detailed … as I previously thought.

Felsong: Aww … thanks! coughs Hopefully you weren't _that_ lost during this chapter. "

Ljstagflower4e: Heh. Thanks. Hope you enjoyed this chapter too. :P

Baddums: That was a cliffy? blinks Cool! Lol. weatdrops Thanks for the kind review.

Angie5: Aw. Sorry for the late update! Eh, I feel really bad since you were all anticipative. sigh Thanks for the flattering review!

Lady of Messaline: drools Your pen name is soo cool! stares at my own pathetic pen-name and falls off my chair I—gotta—steal—you—pen—name! Lol. Jk Thanks for the oh-so-elegant review! huggles

Anonymous: well, here's the really late update .. hope this will do. Lol. Sorry!

Siriusforeva: I love Sirius too! sigh JK Rowling must be on drugs when she kills him in cold blood. wailsBut I digress … Anyways, thank you for your lovely review!

Melancholy-autumn08: blushescoughAw. You're sooo nice. Geeesh, I feel so flattered by the review. hugs Belated welcome to fanfiction dot net by the way!

Mvf: lol. Thanks for the review … and awesome compliment! Hope I didn't disappoint too much.

Nebula: Er. You've got a point. I suppose that might be over doing it. But I was just building on the whole "sophisticated courtier" thing. Lol. Sorry. Thanks for the review!

Sharms: YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT! sigh I'm really a very careless writer. Oiii…. Need … a…. beta … reader … And dude, what do you mean? Your review was wonderfully long! As for Orinthe .. cough It doesn't _really_ exist. blushes I never found the time to ask Sherwood Smith for an old northern duchy .. so I made it up.

Fuzzfurry: Well, dude, I have finally updated. grins Sorry for the late-ness.

Sailacel: Lol Yes! You're BRILLIANT! gives you a nonexistent prize I can't believe you're the ONLY one who noticed FLAUVIC cough cough attention! is back!

Hydrangea: Thanks! Hope you enjoyed this chap too!

Anna: Yes, indeed. grins Thanks!

**Okie doke … it seems like I got everybody. If I missed anyone—please tell me! I'll do a special note just for you on the next chap. :P**


	6. Chapter Six

**AN:** Surprise! Okay ... so you're wondering why I updated so early. Well. I felt bad. When school starts--which is tomorrow BTW--I'll be really busy. (hence, the next update might be delayed. Please forgive me) I'll be a highschool freshman, but I'm skipping a year in math (Algebra2/trig) and I have to also take extra classes at a nearby college.

My parents are bloody insane. (I would not do all that if my parents weren't crazy; I'm quite lazy actually)

Anyway, back to what I was talking about. So yeah, this early update is like a sorry present.

Also, quite a few people asked about Lelaine. Well, she was introduced in chapter four as Her Grace, Lelaine Dralianne, the Duchess of Orinthe (it's an old northern duchy in Remalna. I made it up BTW, so don't ask Sherwood Smith about it and make me look like a fraud). Lelaine will actually be present for a big chuncky part of this story. I know so far, she seems shallow and unformed, but remember, this is in Mel's POV. She hasn't gotten to know Lelaine yet, and so far, she just seem a evil brat to her--and that's what you guys get, since it is her story. But Lelaine is actually an interesting character with a lot of inner conflict ... and quite a connection to Flauvic.

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**Mage Duel**

_By Autumn Faery_

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**Disclaimer: **Blah blah blah .. I don't own. Period.

**Thank you wake-robin for being a saint and agreeing to be my beta reader! From the next chapter on, I'll be sending you my rough drafts. (My thanks also to Melancholy-antumn08 for offering, but robin asked first).**

**And thank you Wake-Robin, Victoria27, gcho831, SoccerFreak2516, paradox01, Legofiance, melancholy-autumn08, ruledbythemoon, Skye Renegarde, Linzadoodle, adiralinnet, Erkith, siriusforeva, and Ophelia Eternal for your most awesome reviews! Love you guys!**

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**Chapter Six**

**_Disclaimer:_** _I'm flat out broke right now. Couldn't even shop for back to school. Don't--sue--please! "Sherwood Smith owns it all!" I declare._

I got up at first gold the next day to see Bran and Nee off. Though my apartments were pleasantly warm, my fingers felt stiff and cold as I quickly dressed myself. I then went to my bathroom discreetly, not wishing to wake Mora, and mechanically went through my regular ablution.

As I stared into the mirror, my own reflection looked weary: my skin was more pale than usual, the corners of my eyes seemed to droop, my lips were thin and grim, and there were bags under my eyes. Perhaps a month of hard work and little sleep had taken its toll on me. Considering this, I frowned. Surely I was not that delicate?

I shook my head rebukingly when I realized I was stalling. Swiftly styling my hair into a single, simple braid, I left my rooms.

As I descended the Residence stairs unto the front parlor, I made mental notes not to wail my eyes out or beg Bran and Nee to stay when the moment for them to leave came. I rubbed my temples agitatedly; what am I going to do without them?

The entourage and a small group of close friends were already present when I arrived, their shadows cast firmly on to the paved ground by the rising sun from the east.

"Mel, 'bout time! I was worried you picked up my bad habits; don't want you to become a late riser, too!" Bran called out comically when he spotted me. Many laughed with appreciation at his joke.

I snorted and mock-pouted, my arms crossed childishly. "Now where's justice? So I get your bad habit in exchange that you're blessed with my wonderful ability to rise early?" More laughter. And the mood seemed to lighten a bit, which caused me to realize it had been somber.

Though the bucolic edge of Bran's demeanor never left him, the court had gotten used to it—and even appreciated it. My brother was really something fresh; I believe many courtiers learned something from his ability to laugh at his own mistakes.

And then there was Nee, who's really special. It never failed to amaze—even to this day—that despite a court upbringing, she always had a pure personality, never failing to be kind and patient, and always enjoying small personal talks rather that Court gossip.

I glanced around. Lady Trishe looked she was about the burst into tears any moment. Lord Derek didn't look much better. Her heart-shaped face grim, Lady Elenet looked rather tense. And Lady Tamara, to my surprise, managed to actually look amiable instead of bored and aloof, as she had always appeared around Nee. Only Savona and Vidanric looked passive and smooth (And I wasn't surprised; their court masks did save them from Galdran's clutches). But on a closer look, I detected a faint frown from Savona, and Vidanric's usually light eyes were darkened to a steel gray.

They were all going to miss my brother and newly gained sister terribly.

And so would I.

To my distress, the time for them to depart came all too soon. Everyone rushed to bless Bran and Nee, and my brother, cheerful as always, received every blessing heartily. When my turn came, I forced a bright smile on my face; I wouldn't be as selfish as to worry them with my remorse. Embracing each of them close for a long moment, I never spoke a word, afraid my voice would break and my cheerful façade would falter.

Just as the bells rang for second gold, Bran and Nee got into the carriage, their eyes dancing and faces merry. I earnestly fought the urge to run after them as their entourage began to move and a runner shouted towards the palace gates, "Tlanth! Tlanth! Departing!"

The gates swung aside, and Bran suddenly sticked his upper body out the carriage window and waved like mad. I grinned sincerely for the first time, and reflected his crazy movements until their entourage was nothing but a disappearing dot on the horizon.

* * *

I was in a daze for the rest of the day.

After Bran and Nee's departure, I saddled Celyne, my chestnut mount, absently and went out for a ride. In a full gallop, I soon left the palace gates and continued towards goodness-knows-where.

When I left the city boundary, I almost thought I was going after Bran and Nee. But then, looking up, I realized where I was headed.

The smooth contours of rolling hills brought my memory to the day Vidanric and I raced on this very path. And suddenly I was reminded of dancing gray eyes; of sunlight peeking through my eyelashes; of fields dotted with wildflowers; of swaying willows and steady oaks; and of the calm azure sky …

I smiled, ecstatic and comforted to become conscious of all the memory I'd created. He was right; losing the past did not mean I'd lost my present.

As I ascended the hill, I gazed down. The whole world seemed small, like a miniature model from a child's play-set. This calmed me somewhat and I was no longer despondent over Bran and Nee's absence. The distance between us meant nothing; it wouldn't change our relationship, nor would it prevent us from ever seeing each other again. Instead, their going away simply meant I was no longer dependent upon them. And they knew it.

I don't know how long I stay there, but I felt perfectly serene, sitting on the grassy slope with the wind caressing my face and distant melodies whispering in my ears.

Well, maybe I was too comfortable.

I fell asleep, and was given a nasty shock when I woke up and realized it was already late afternoon—no earlier than third green.

My mind gave a sudden jolt. Lady Elenet was leaving at first blue! Her sole reason for remaining in Court was to attend the wedding, and now that Nee's happily married, Elenet had to return home, for her duties rested within Grumareth.

I scrambled to my feet and raced down the hill. Celyne snorted—my eyes narrowed when I sensed amusement—and greeted me with a toss of her head. I jumped on and we were off.

In personal record time, I made it back to Athanarel just as the bells tolled for first blue. With a dismayed grimace, I jumped off Celyne in such haste I almost fell flat on my face. With a mutter of apology for leaving her in the middle of the courtyard, I left, running hard.

When I arrived, Elenet was getting ready to enter her carriage, and Vidanric was giving her his last farewell blessing. Waiting for my turn, I slumped with my hands on my knees and tried to catch my breath. Then, when my breathing was even, I tried to smooth my wind-blown hair with my hands, and wiped my sweaty face with the sleeves of my riding tunic. However, when I glanced up, I froze.

Vidanric's head was bent low to kiss Elenet's hand, as was the tradition. Elenet, gazing down at the top of his head, was without her court mask for a fleeting moment. It was so swift that I almost missed it. But I knew it had been there, for her eyes, usually soft, had gone intense—intense with sorrow … and something else. Something I did not understand.

As swift as her change, her guard was back up as she smiled gently at Vidanric and thanked him. I frowned faintly. What was troubling Elenet's heart? And why was she so guarded?

When my turn came, the first thing I did was to offer the Duchess of Grumareth an apology:

"I'm sorry. I know I look a mess, but it's not done intentionally. I, ah, fell asleep and forgot the time. Please don't take it an insult."

To my surprise, she smiled. It was so faint that I almost didn't catch it.

But it was sincere

… And _resigned_.

"Perhaps this is why …" she murmured, but stopped herself. "Lady Meliara, I admire your candor and lack of guile. It was an honor to make your acquaintance." Then, taking my hands, she continued in a low voice, "Please, if you open your eyes a little more, happiness is closer than you think."

I never got the chance to ask the meaning of those words.

* * *

I pushed the beautiful bluewood doors and smiled at the rolls of shelves, all filled with books, in front of me. The library was one of the few places in the palace that was old enough to possess wooden doors.

I had just begun scanning the titles of books in the nearest shelf when I heard the sound of boots behind me. Turning around with alarm and agile, I almost sighed in relief when I realized it was only Vidanric.

"Why are you here?"

"Why should I not be here?" he countered with slight amusement.

When I realized my simple question could be taken as an insult, I winced at my blunder. "I should probably re-phrase my question: Why are you not at dinner?"

"Oh? I should ask you the same question."

"Perhaps I'm being arbitrary, but I don't feel like eating today. And I'm here to find a few good reads to occupy myself. Any suggestions?"

He inclined his head and spread an arm gracefully. "A few. Follow me."

"Here's Lord Yevlandis's _Principles_." He handed a thick volume to me.

"Lord Yevlandis … was he not a famous philosopher?"

"Yes; he's known for his views on government and politics, for they were radical at the time _Principles_ was written. Today, however, he is admired as a revolutionary genius with views much too advanced for his time."

"A revolutionary genius," I reflected. "But what about now? Are his views still too advanced?"

"Yes and no," he replied, his winged eyes regarding me. "He believed tyranny meant the destruction of the land, for a sole whim can never rule a kingdom with prudence and justice. And that we've adopted to create councils and courts to limit and balance a ruler's power."

"Like Petitioner's Court in Remalna and Council of Mages in Eidervaen?"

"Yes."

" I see. But what of the views that are yet too advanced for our time?" I asked, thinking hard. "Are they impossible with current state of affairs?"

"Yes and yes," he answered. Putting a hand under his chin, he went on, "Yevlandis believed the throne should not be hereditary."

"I … think I understand," I mused slowly. "It would be a good system in an ideal world where all people are equally educated and knowledgeable. If the throne is not hereditary, and knowledge is power, then the people of the kingdom would be the power behind the decision of choosing a leader."

"Yet currently, the common people are mostly ignorant. Many countries, Remalna included, have instead powerful factions of nobles and former ruling families. If Yevlandis's principles were applied—"

"—It would mean the breakout of war and chaos," I finished, comprehension dawning in my head.

Vidanric nodded and smiled briefly. "You've a quick and clever mind."

I flushed and waved a dismissive hand. "More like an ignorant mind. I've so much to yet learn!"

"Should I take that as I sign of your wish to gather enough wisdom to kick me off the throne?" he drawled.

I choked and bent my head to cough.

Then I heard light laughter. Looking up, I realized he had been joking. I winced mentally. _I'll never get used to court humor_.

"And should I take your mirth as a sign that I should actually try?" I quipped deadpan.

"I confess I should hope not," was his dry response, "for my dilapidated prestige certainly does not put me … in favor of victory." Finally understanding his wry humor, I openly laughed.

"What?" I asked when he gave me an unreadable look.

"You've a beautiful laugh; it's like a fresh breeze through the ancient walls of Athanarel." He grinned. "I'd like to hear it more." Then, changing the subject, he said, "Come. I've more books to show you." Putting a hand gently on my shoulder, he led me to another section of the library.

* * *

It was not until third blue when I returned to my rooms, my mind whirling. Vidanric had shown me many famous classic works, and I'd ask him about each one, whether it was about its origins or its author. The more he showed me, the more question I had in mind … until I stopped myself in embarrassment and apologized.

"When you've finished them all, I'd most gladly discuss them with you," he had told me, as if I was an equal scholar and not an ignorant fool.

And I was glad.

Bran was my dear brother. Nee was my closest confidant. Elenet was a lady of incredible quality. Yet they're all gone. Perhaps this was why I was almost giddy after my long talk with Vidanric.

_Maybe I won't be so lonely after all_, I thought vaguely before blowing out my candle. Moments later, I was fast asleep …

_The expanse of darkness before me was endless. It felt as if I was in a void, my heart lonely and hollow from its emptiness. _

_"So, Countess, how are you enjoying your days so far? May I fill myself with ecstasy to know you've enjoyed them thoroughly? You must know your days are numbered, right, Meliara?"_

_That voice. _

_I'd heard of it before, I knew I had … and yet, I couldn't recall when or where … _

_"Who are you?" I yelled, the hollowness of the void absorbing my voice. "Show yourself!"_

_"You wound me!" the same voice mocked. Suddenly, the faint outline of a man appeared. _

_I gasped. Who was he?_

_"Better now, Meliara?" He knew my name? "I know this is not much, my beautiful self reduced to a mere contour," he would almost sound sad if I didn't detect the faint sarcasm leaking in his voice, "but you'll get to see me again, soon—wait: Please accept my humblest apologies, but perhaps you won't see me after all." He paused and I heard a small chuckle_.

_"You see, my dear Countess, when I gain my body again, **you'd be dead**_."

_I screamed when I was suddenly filled with a strange pain. The indescribable sensation of invisible hands gasping and pulling and choking me made me fear it was stealing my life itself—_

"My lady! My lady, what is wrong? May I do anything for you?" I gasped loudly as I bolted from my bed. My breathing was uneven and ragged, and my forehead was covered with beads of cold sweat.

A candle was lit, and I turned and found Mora by my bedside, her face shadowed with concern. It was she who woke me.

"My lady, are you ill?" she asked, placing her hand above my own.

It took me a while to answer, but at last, I replied, "No, I'm fine. It was but a nightmare. I'm sorry for the alarm, Mora. Please go back to sleep; I'll be fine." Mora didn't look convinced, but finally left me.

When the tapestry of my room flapped and closed, I let out a shaky sigh and hugged my knees. The dream felt too real to dismiss … and I was more drained than ever.

* * *

**AN: Slightly better than last chapter? I hope so! Please review. **

Okay ... I should probably stop now ... it's 10 and I have to get to school by 7:15 tomorrow ... AND all my school stuff are under my bed--have to find them and stuff 'em in my backpack. I hate school!


	7. Chapter Seven

**AN: Well, hello! Er ... I certainly won't blame you if you thought I got ran over by a car, died, and thus was unable to update. I'll admit: I _have_ been pretty inactive have I? Sorry! But yeah ... anyway ... I hope I still remember the plot (lol it all went poof! when my hardrive crashed), so yup, here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy, and I hope I can update more (school's killing me!). **

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**Mage Duel**

_By Autumn Faery_

**Chapter Seven**

**_Disclaimer:_** _Rather pointless by now, eh? We all love and worship Sherwood Smith; who'd ever steal? But anyway, I don't own, for I'm merely a lunatic who'd like to extend the wonderful adventures of Mel. _

_**And my thanks to:** Wake-Robin, the greatest beta-reader ever!

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_

"Have you not slept well?" Glancing up from my warm morning coffee, I met Vidanric's assessing gaze.

We were in the parlor of the royal compartments. I'd been invited for breakfast and a friendly discourse.

"Hah. I'd like to ask you the same," I retorted. The warm rays of the morning sunshine, pouring from the wide windows made the shadows of fatigue under his eyes overly apparent. "You look outright _dreadful_."

Vidanric raised a brow and mock-bowed with impeccable grace. "Ah, your flattery brightens my day," he replied dryly, the corners of his mouth wry.

I snorted. "No really. You were up all night, toiling away, weren't you?"

"There is much to be done."

"And I'm glad I'm not king-to-be."

He smiled faintly. "No?"

"Not unless I'm offered a tall stature, my own toadies-at-disposal, and elegant verbal prowess in exchange," I joked, deprecating my shortcomings.

"So declares our heroine, who single-handedly faced forty wagoneers, earned the admiration of the entire kingdom, and called us all Court Decorations—and, if I may inquire once more, of what do my lady lack?"

I threw him a half-hearted glare and muttered, "Don't mock me." Though against my will, my face betrayed a grin. Shaking my head, I tried to change the topic,

"I've finished the books you recommended last week."

"Of which I trust you've found satisfactory?" he inquired politely, sipping from his cup of listerblossom tea.

"Oh yes—most satisfactory. Duchess Garessa's account of the Thirteen-Years War was most engrossing, and Hareuer's theories of—what did he called it—Unreticent Mercantile Policies were thought provoking," I responded earnestly. "Though I must say, these excellent selections are quite wasted on me. I fail to think of one instance where I may apply my newly acquired knowledge—but," I paused to grin, "_it is_ wonderful to mend the gaps of ignorance."

"Keep up the mending then." Vidanric's voice was light and amiable. "It'll certainly keep me vigilant knowing my every decision will be accessed with scholarly expertise. Speaking of which—your presence would be more than welcome in petitioner's court."

An invitation. Well, I certainly didn't quite know what to make of it—or him as far as I could throw a castle, but at length I replied, "Very well, perhaps." Which was all I _could_ say.

Maybe it was the warm and calming morning atmosphere or maybe, it was the way his provocative gray eyes shone as he gazed at me, but I blurted, "You know what I _really _want? I want more purpose. Bran and Nee have a family to build and a county to look after, Elenet has Grumareth to restore, you have the kingdom to rule, and Tamara and Savona has a court to lead in fashions and social events. I, however, have nothing—not really anyway. This fear and restless, I think, are plaguing me with sleepless nights and a most unsettled mind—no, I don't think I'm going crazy, do you? I mean, I really don't _get_ anything. So how am I going to lay the steps for the rest of my life?"

I grimaced. Here I was, over in the parlor of the future king, having coffee and conversational niceties—but somehow managed to blab my deepest insecurities to a man whom I barely knew beneath the polite, smiling countenance.

"Actually, don't answer that." I held up a hand, daring not to look at him. "They weren't really questions—and I don't expect you to answer them for me. _I'm_ supposed to do that."

"I shall comply your wish," was his reply and his tone was as pleasant as ever, though the drawl was somehow less pronounced, "but what I shall reply is this: Your role in Remalna is and will be more prominent than you contemplate if you _choose_."

Well. _That_ left me thinking.

* * *

That night I tossed and turned in my bed. The Marquis was right. Even if he might have been insulting me in an oh-so-suave-and-courtly manner, he had a point: I might as well be useless if I wait for a 'purpose'. None of us has a prescribed destiny. Elenet had to choose to learn and expand her abilities for Grumareth, and likewise Vidanric had to duel to death for the Crown. And I, if I never search or try, cannot expect my life path laid out orderly before me, as readable as a map. _We fight and make our own destinies_.

With this new insight, I got out of bed—if I can't sleep, I might as well make use of my time—and headed for the library. Before leaving my rooms, I hastily threw a tunic over my nightgown and wrapped myself in a thick shawl.

I followed the dimly lit glowglobes through the dark palace hallways and once again, found myself standing in front of the rows of tightly packed shelves. I decided to browse the shelves that contained the older books this time, hoping to find a good few histories that'll make the past clearer for me. Letting my fingers trail across the bindings, I scanned over the titles until a volume in dark-green silk caught my attention. I allowed myself to pull it from its resting place. **_A Comprehensive History of Magic_**. Promising. Flipping to a random page, I read.

_Magic is very much similar to energy. It is pooled into our world, like lightening and is difficult to control. The Old Sartorans were the first to wield this lightening-like power by creating spells and gestures, which serves as aids to controlling the otherwise wild magic. Yet, the Old Sartorans eventually lost the ability … _

I closed the book with a raised brow. Very promising. I decided to take it with me for some reading later and browsed on. I was in the act of grabbing another book when my gaze traveled to a plain door-tapestry at the end of the hall. There was light radiating from the tapestry edges. It must lead to a functional room.

Then suddenly, an engulfing sense of familiarity filled me, and I was compelled to stride over and see what lay on the other side.

That was precisely what I did—

—And met familiar gray eyes.

"Sorry!" I squeaked in a hurry. "Didn't-know-room-was-occupied-oh-life-why-did-I-bother—" I realized I was blabbering incoherently, stopped short and flushed.

Vidanric looked mildly questioning and interjected slowly, "You must realize it is second-white—" He paused and then suddenly glanced away, embarrassment apparent on his usually blank face.

I looked down and realized I was barefoot, my hair unbound and free—and parts of my legs were showing under my short and thin summer nightgown.

_No one _except my immediate family should _ever _see me thus dressed.

_There goes my reputation, _I thought, hugging my shawl closer about me, my face burning, _he must feel scandalized. _

"Burn it!" I muttered quietly under my breath and then cursed loudly when I managed to drop one of the books on my foot. I bent down to pick up the stray book, and grumbled with annoyance in my mind: _Well, it certainly wasn't my fault for not knowing the king-to-be would be lurking in wayward sections of the library at—life—second-white! _

When I rose, I realized the Marquis had managed to read my mind once more and was regarding me with humor shading his eyes, the deep corners of his wide mouth quirking with suppressed laughter.

I sighed. "Just pretend this is all a very, very bad dream: _Do not remember it in the morning_, I pray you."

This time he overtly _laughed_. Life! It took great constraint not to throw my books at him. I was still irritated when he handed me a cup of listerblossom tea and gestured to a cushion on the other side of the desk where he kneeled.

Deciding a cup of tea would do me good, I accepted—with a mutter that sounded _some_what like a thanks—the cup from his hands and placed my books in a corner. However, I didn't sit; I paced around the small room instead.

"This is an archive," I noted after a brief moment, intrigued.

"Its shelves contain some of the finest—and the not so fine—primary sources of our historical events. Quite interesting."

I frowned slightly. "But—doesn't explain why you're here." I ambled back to the cushion and sat, picking up a pile of paper on the floor and placing it on top of the gargantuan paper pile on his desk that was threatening to topple. "If it is administrative details you need to do, I can't imagine your study in the royal compartments is any less grand than this."

"Too grand I fear," was his dry but absent reply as he continued to bend over the papers, his pen scrawling across the pages animatedly.

I looked at his workload and felt a brow quirk. "You'll never finish this before morning."

"Indeed, so I figured—do you think I can manage, if I skip breakfast?" he murmured, staring intensely at the papers.

I gave an exasperated scoff. "Vidanric … the point of a future king is that he can eventually _be_ king."

This time he glanced up, eyes questioning.

I couldn't help but to grin as I explained, "With the current …ah … state of affairs, you're bound to kill yourself before you even get one good sit on that goldenwood throne. But don't you have at least _some_ ministers and advisors to help you rule?"

"My thanks to you, Lady Meliara. Your faith in me is _quite _encouraging," he drawled dryly with elegance, his pen never stopping. "As for your question, the government is still new and I have yet to assess which of Galdran's leftover lackeys are worthy and which ones to replace—and who to replace them with."

"I see." I watched the pen. Then, taking advantage of a single moment of pause, I snatched the papers from him. "Now don't be cross with me, just let me take a look."

The papers had Vidanric's neatly recorded calculations of tax and surplus funds from every barony, county, marquisate, and duchy in Remalna. In addition, there was a list of necessary expenditures, and the source and amplitude of each funding. I then looked at all the numbers scrawled in the scratch papers that followed. Reviewing all the numbers and sums quickly in my head, I suddenly felt obscenely pleased and exclaimed,

"Hah! You're doing this the slow and painful way! There's a shortcut!"

"Oh? Pardoning my denseness, care to enlighten me?"

"I simply ran the numbers in my head—and they match your sums."

Vidanric gave me a faint smile. "So that's how you do it. Your brother once informed me—right before we took on Galdran, in fact—of your admirable aptitude for business affairs."

"Don't really remember doing any of that," I muttered, "but—oh, life—just give me all of that."—I grabbed the portion of his pile that contained the economic administrative details—"If I really have an 'aptitude for business affairs' then let me do the calculations for you, and you can write them all down since my chicken scrawl will make your associates wheeze with laughter. Maybe you won't have to skip breakfast after all."

He hesitated.

And I was suddenly horrified at my suggestion and its implications. Whacking myself on the head, I groaned, "I make a mess of just about everything. No, please don't misunderstand. My one and sole motive is to alleviate the paper load before you literally drown in it. I don't wish to be an ambitious lackey any more do I wish to meddle with your royal affairs."

It was his turn to grin amusedly at me. "I fear you're much too honest and straightforward for alternate motives—if I may remark so without initiating offence. I was merely concerned you would be deprived of your rest."

"Life! Do I look like glass to you?" I snapped. "Just let me do the accursed sums!"

"Very well," came the bemused answer.

It was so that we worked in silence. I'd come up with the sums on the side and Vidanric would write it all in on the official royal record. I was so absorbed with the work that by the time bells announced first-gold, I was so startled that I nearly toppled the piles of paper on Vidanric's desk.

"Huh. First-gold. I better get out of here while I can before I get into even more of a mess," I told the Marquis with a wave at my utterly inappropriate attire. He nodded.

Before I stood however, I heard him murmur in a deep voice full of mirth: "Now, for a 'very, very bad dream' that was entirely uncharacteristic. And I think your advice shall go unheeded, for I very much wish to remember it all."

I sniffed, hopping up to grab my abandoned books in the corner. Before I flapped aside the tapestry, however, I decided to turn around to grin cheekily at him as I savored every word: "Vidanric? Do make effort to sort out that awful mess of a desk."

* * *

The nostalgic scent of jasmines and roses mixed with the expressive music of harps and flutes beckoned my mind to drift to some faraway realm as I sat in the pavilion. Closing my eyes, I took a small sip of cider and allowed myself to relax. _Lady Trishe is really the best of hostesses_, I thought appreciatively.

"Ah, dearest Meliara! Do enliven my dreary spirit with a walk!"

I quickly opened my eyes to see Savona grinning extravagantly at me and replied bluntly, "I don't think your spirit needs anymore enlivening, but if a walk with me is what you wish, I'm more than happy to oblige." I took his outstretched arm.

Here and there, those invited to Trishe's garden party strolled and admired flowers in full bloom. I hid a smile when I spotted Tamara surrounded by a party of swains, as usual. This time her many admirers were busy making a sport of finding the most ravishing bloom to embellish Tamara's intentionally unadorned hair.

Yet that moment, I was struck by another feeling of familiarity. Admiring a garden suddenly felt dimly significant. _Where else,_ I wondered, _have I—perhaps often—spent time in a garden? _

"Never have I seen anyone regard flowers so pensively." Savona's remark shook me from me thoughts. I turned to him and smiled faintly. "But they are very beautiful," I countered vaguely.

"Oh? But I know of someone whose beauty out-dazzles all flowers," was his outrageous compliment. However, his flippant air simply made me laugh rather than enamored.

"Huh!" I snorted. "If I can out-dazzle all flowers, how are you going to describe Lady Tamara? The-One-Who-Outshines-the-Sun-and-the-Moon? And—"

I stopped short when we turned along the path and I spotted two figures some distances away. One was instantly recognizable: an innately graceful and lean figure with light hair that shone brilliantly under the fierce sun—_Vidanric_. By him stood a woman with a fine figure and startling green eyes.

Lelaine.

I felt uneasy, but did not know why; it was as though my stomach tangled and my chest thudded without my consent. Savona noticed them as well, for he gently steered us to their direction.

I curtseyed as Savona spoke all the appropriate greetings, for all of their ranks were higher than mine. But when I rose, Savona bowed to Lelaine—a deferent, flourishing bow. The irony was hard to miss.

"Lady Meliara, Lord Russav!" Lelaine acknowledged in a smooth and pleasant tone, her every mannerism graceful. Then, she turned to me, her mesmerizing green eyes full of intent and piercing. "Ah, Meliara, you must come with me and give your opinion on my new bracelet!" Gently placing a hand on my shoulder, she guided me from Savona and Vidanric.

Yet as we ambled away, Lelaine cocked her head back and mentioned airily, "Behold, Lord Russav!" She pointed casually at a bloom "There's a beauteous ruby-colored rose. Pluck it and perchance you'll regain Lady Tamara's favor!"

I hid a grimace. Two can play a game of stings. Her sporty remark served to hint that Savona accompanied me only because Tamara's many suitors ousted him—thus effectively making the both of us losers.

I made a mental note to be wary of her.

"Blessed weather we have with us, do you not agree?" Lelaine began, the subject of her bracelet completely dropped, though I speculate she did not set me aside to discuss the weather either.

"Indeed," was my simple reply.

"Oh, I am so fond of Court!" she continued, smiling. "Had I known it was so colorful a life, I would have joined you all as soon I was of age!"

"Oh? What unfortunate circumstance prevented your gracious presence amongst us?" I queried, now interested.

"My old, old aunt." She face betrayed a faint grimace. "A beastly creature, made me join her at the Adrani court as soon as I turned twelve—too amuse her boorish life, I contemplate. She just _loved_ to boss me around, the old bird. She passed away last year."

I was for a moment taken aback by the evasion of her usually artful words, which made me wonder just how terrible that aunt was. I gave her a consolatory smile and offered, "I'm sorry."

"Do not burden yourself with remorse, dear Meliara!" Lelaine seemed to realize her earlier blunder in mannerism as well, for she was suddenly back to her usual self, her smiling countenance even more gracious than usual.

She suddenly laughed, a tinkling, pleasant sound. "Now, now, let us not converse upon such unpleasant matters! Tell me, what think you of the king-to-be?"

I stiffened. Her words had the air of careless Court gossip, yet the mention of Vidanric made me uneasy. "I'm afraid I haven't much interesting opinions." I hoped my voice didn't sound odd.

"Really! But surely, you must! A figure as prominent as he?" Lelaine pressed, waving an arm gracefully and casually about. "You needn't be shy with me. Do you find him wise? Or elegant in speech and manner? Isn't he the master dueler of swords and words? Or perhaps"—She cocked her head and gave me a playful grin, one that made her even more beautiful than ever—"utterly handsome and ethereal?"

I controlled the urge to run off spluttering. _What's she going at? What does she want me to admit?_ I wondered and I thought over possible replies. Finally, I said, "I find him wise as Deric is open, elegant as Geral is affable, a master dueler of swords and words as Lord Olric is a master of horses, and as ... ethereal as Savona is dashing." I was pleased with the tact of my reply.

Lelaine made a motion with her fan: a dueler's salute. Ah, so there _was_ something— but I had avoided it, I was most glad to realize.

And even more glad was I, when I turned my attention from Lelaine, to realize our circular path had brought us back, for the figures of Vidanric and Savona were just ahead. I almost sighed in relief. Lelaine baffled me even more than Vidanric.

Before we reached the lords, however, the swish of a fan brought my attention back to the Duchess of Dralianne, once again. Her fan was spread in the mode of Intimate Confidence as she leaned and whispered to my ear,

"I see you've recovered from his nasty spell quite nicely. Won't that make what's to come even more enjoyable?"

I stood frozen as she curtsied and glided away, her ruby lips curved in an amused smile.

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**AN: **A BIG, BIG thanks to all of you that reviewed! (Sorry, but I can't do any individual replies because there's a big math test tomorrow).

Anyway, I hope the chapter has been pretty enjoyable (and for once long enough!).

Be prepared for hot action after a few more chapters.


	8. Chapter Eight

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**Mage Duel**

_By Autumn Faery_

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**Disclaimer:** Getting old now, eh? Perhaps it's about time I did a "I do not own; 'tis the work of Sherwood Smith" song and jig? 

**My thanks to the following reviewers: **Wake-Robin, Lirael Black, anna, nebulia, Molz, trina-k, FelSong, Retasu Midorikawa, Racetrack's Goil, Legofiance, lady, annon, leonsalanna, Rane2920072, me3, rockpaperscissor, lokimotion, and glare.

**Quick note to Wake-Robin: **Ahh! I'm SO sorry I couldn't sent you this chapter. But you see, my computer is not functioning, so I wrote this chapter TODAY at my mom's lab computer in the university. I have to leave soon, so there isn't time to send you the chapter and still be able to post the chapter!

(And due to request) **The story so far:** _Well, Mel gets cut by Flauvic's evil knife, which does her so much harm that she barely survives and wakes up to find her memory gone. She ends up being really depressed and locks herself in her room for days before Nee gets her to talk with her. Mel then learns of her past and the ways of court from Nee. ..But she ends up embarrassing herself once more when she falls from a tree and lands in Vidanric's arms. Danric then takes her to spent a day in the hills, hoping to calm her nerves a little. Mel, noticing her ring, asks Vidanric if she's betrothed and promptly admits that she doesn't like the idea of marrying someone she no longer knows. Danric immediately understands and decides to give her as much time as she needs._

_Some time passes. Nee and Bran get married and leaves. So does Elenet. However, there is a new arrival at Court: Lelaine Draelian, the Duchess of Orinthe. Though beautiful and serene, Lelaine immediately makes it clear--though subtlely--that she does not like Mel. In the mean time, Meliara also has several increasingly disturbing dreams of an unknown someone that clearly wishes her harm. She also feels increasingly tired and drained. _

_Mel and Vidanic does get closer, however, as they begin discussing various books, and Mel also begins to aid Danric in the economic aspects of rule. _

_Then, at Trishe's garden party, Lelaine reveals things that highly disturbs Mel ..._

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**_Chapter Eight_**

_Block_._ Parry_._ Cut_._ Lunge_.

Tightening my grip on my sword, I pursed my lips and continued my sword drills doggedly, ignoring the tired ache of my arms. My legs felt like lead, which made me frustratingly slow in my footwork.

Despite others' praise on my steady improvement, sword practices had gotten harder and harder lately. I just couldn't help but to feel tired and weak all the time—before I'd even pick up my sword! Initially I had assigned my weariness to laziness and lack of sufficient exercise, but now as days past, I felt wearier and wearier. And no matter how much I exerted myself, I'd feel tired as always—if not more.

"_I see you've recovered from his nasty spell quite nicely."_

My footwork faltered and I almost stumbled. My cuts and thrusts ceased.

"Lelaine, Lelaine … just what am I to make of you?" I mumbled quietly to myself, wiping my damp forehead with a sleeve. I conjured an image of the Duchess: poised, graceful, a serene and gracious smile, piercing green eyes, and soft chestnut hair—the very epitome of beauty.

And in some ways she and Vidanric were almost alike. Both possessed a natural air of sophistication, and both had laudable control and calm. But when I would stare into the gray depth of Vidanric's gaze, I could almost sense kindness and honesty and humor in them. Looking into his eyes were almost like gazing through broken patches of rain-clouds and seeing the sun beyond. Lelaine's green orbs, on the other hand, were like beautifully cut gems, dazzling and flashing. Yet no matter how closely you look, there's nothing else.

I played her last words to me at Trishe's garden party through my mind once more, examining every word with care. "_I see you've recovered_." Her choice of word … _Recover_—why, she _knows_!

"—_his nasty spell_—"

I felt cold all of the sudden. And then I dropped my sword and ran.

I think I bumped and crashed into a great deal of people, but my mind was far too remote to notice. After dashing across hallways and hopping up numerous stairs, I sighed in relief when the bluewood doors of the library came to view.

_Please be here_, I thought as I scurried through the shelves and flapped open the achieve door-tapestry. "Vidanric," I sighed in relief as I spotted the neat figure kneeling by the window, writing.

At my voice, he looked up. His face was briefly unreadable before breaking into a smile. "Meliara. How may I be of assistance?"

"A discourse would be most salutary," I replied, fighting the dizziness due to my rapid flight.

He nodded pleasantly. "Ah, of course. My pleasure."

I took a long intake of breath and seated myself across from him. Though his smile was still there, I saw worry in his eyes. "Will you promise to tell me something without demanding the reason or motive behind my request?" I finally asked, resisting the urge to grimace.

Vidanric forehead puckered faintly before answering somewhat tentatively, "Ask away—and I'll see what I can do."

"Very well, thank you." I gave him a relieved and grateful smile. "I want you to tell me everything you can about Flauvic."

The Marquis looked the same as ever, but the faint frown was gone. "That I can do," he told me as he placed a slender hand under his chin. "Flauvic Merindar was the son of the late Lady Arthal, Marquise of Merindar, which makes him the nephew of Galdran—whose vile clutches you had escaped from the previous year. He grew up with us all, and I still remember him as a small child: he had been an adorable golden haired boy that all the adults indulged, but loathed by us all for his cruel, calculating nature that he no doubt inherited from his equally despicable mother. We didn't have to bear his presence long; he had been sent out of the kingdom to be kept alive."

I frowned. "Out of the kingdom—you mean he didn't grow up in Anthanarel?"

Vidanric's smile was almost sardonic. "How could he? Both his father and his uncles had met enigmatic demises. It was either escape—or death."

I winced. "I take it Galdran was not exactly the ideal family man?"

"Not particularly," his reply was now wry. "His blood thirsty rage was not reserved solely for his family, however. The whole Court suffered. Young heirs often found themselves orphans—and the talented or outspoken ones sometimes simply disappeared. You can then perceive the necessity for many to move away and avoid the royal eye. But to resume to our original topic of discussion: yes, Flauvic did in fact grow up in a foreign land. Spent many—and successful, I might mention—years as a page at Nente in Sles Adran. That where he learned—"

"Sles Adran did you say?" I quickly interrupted. "You're positive?"

He nodded. If he said anything else, I didn't catch it. My mind was now whirling as I recalled Lelaine's words,

"_My old, old aunt. A beastly creature. Made me join her at the Adrani court as soon as I turned twelve."_

Adrani court. None of this could possibly be a coincidence.

When I withdrew from my reverie, I realized Vidanric was quietly and patiently waiting for any possible further questions. Grateful, I immediately asked, "I was informed that Flauvic had poisoned the blade in which he had done me harm. Is this a certain fact?"

He looked faintly puzzled—a justly reaction, for my question had been strange. "The healers said it was the most likely explanation," he replied slowly, "but it's not certain. There _could_ be magic evolved—but no one in Remalna has enough experience with magic to discern the truth in that assumption."

"Oh. Well. I think I've interrogated you thoroughly." I strived for lightness, but my tone ended up tired and weary.

"Mel." Vidanric caught my gaze, and gave me a gentle but subtly encouraging smile. "Remember I'm entirely at your disposal should the need for anything arise." I nodded absently and thanked him.

_I think it's about time_, I thought as I bid the Marquis a good day and rose from my seat, _I paid a visit to Flauvic-the-tree._

_

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_

I couldn't very well march to the throne room and lurk around what used to be the goldwood throne. I would surely be misunderstood—maybe even to a lethal degree. Petitioner's Court then, I decided, was my best chance.

I raced out of my rooms garbed in my stately rose-colored gown and elaborate headdress just as bells from a distance rang for second green. Running as fast as I could through the halls without tripping on my train, I hoped I wasn't lamentably late.

The throne room was fully occupied with courtiers in rich and colorful jewels and velvet, made dazzling by the strong noon rays of the sun streaming from high windows. I blinked for a moment, trying hard to gain some sense of familiarity in a room I had never been—or rather, did not remember.

I nearly sighed in relief when I spotted Tamara surrounded by the comfortingly recognizable faces of Savona, Deric, Geral, and others.

"Why Meliara, what a pleasure!" Savona exclaimed when he spotted my presence. At this, all the others looked up. I was glad of the flashes of welcoming smiles.

Even Tamara lacked her usual prickliness as she made a friendly gesture with her fan and smiled. "Lady Meliara, do join us. Your company shall be most delightful," she beckoned. At her right, I noticed Savona's face seemed to have sparked with approval and appreciation at her actions, but I was not sure.

With a polite smile here and there, I joined them and turned my attention to the dais.

_Flauvic_.

He looked harmless enough as a tree—even beautiful, with radiant and smooth barks streaked with gold, auburn, copper, and amber. Even now, when summer was drawing to a close, he was still in his full glory with long sprawling branches filled with silver-green lea—

A shrill note abruptly pierced my ears, making my skin tingle and vision swarm.

_Life, you _are_ worn out_, I realized, rubbing my ears and promising myself some sleeping tonic and a good night of rest. _And Flauvic is just a blasted tree—since when are trees dangerous? _

With that settled, I trailed my gaze from the dais to the Reselaeuses below. The Prince and Princess were gracefully seated in finely crafted chairs, and in front of them was their son, calmly kneeled by a low table, stately and elegant in his formal and dark attire.

The Marquis did not look particularly imposing or threatening, nor was he surrounded by personal guards of sorts. In fact, he was the very opposite of descriptions I'd heard of the previous king, Galdran, who had liked to display authority with outright show of power.

Yet Vidanric didn't have any of that not because he couldn't—but because the need was not there. I don't think I'd ever saw anyone else with that same air of innate authority he displayed so effortlessly while simply kneeling there oh-so-calmly, away from the throne. _What ever power is_, I decided,_ Galdran didn't have it—not when he had to forcefully enforce it. Vidanric will be more of a king than he ever was._ Even I could perceive that simply by gazing at his tranquil profile.

Then, at the sound of a horn, the wide doors were thrown open. Petitioner's Court had begun.

The first petitioner was the mayor of a small town in the west who came to seek royal permission for the construction of a town hall. The matter was quickly settled with minimum fuss, though the pudgy man lingered quite a while longer around the refreshment tables.

Next came several members from the town council of Kaslaen-on-Akaeriki, a major agricultural location in the production of flour. Most townspeople there made a living as millers.

By the grim mien of the petitioners, it was instantly clear to everyone that a difficult issue was at hand before their petition was even handed to the Renselaeuses.

"Please, speak, Master Felhan," Vidanric beckoned with a polite motion of his hands once he'd reviewed their petition. "I understand that the receding of currents in the Akaeriki these recent years have proved to be a problem for the watermills at Kaslaen-on-Akaeriki."

Master Felhan was a thin, elderly man with a flat nose and balding head. He looked very tense and anxious, an observation augmented by his constant gestures to rub away at his damp forehead. At the Marquis' beckon, he quickly stammered, "Your grace, the Akeariki has been steadily drying for the last ten years. This has posed dire consequences. Our watermills are no longer producing what they once did, and as a direction result, the town has suffered much of late. Indirectly, the farmers of cereal crops no longer make as much profit, for we dare not buy more than we can grind."

"What are you so panicked up for? Just raise the price of your blasted flour!" someone immediately called out. I identified the speaker: a round, portly man with the red face of someone who drinked often. Who was _he_?

"Leftover toady from dear old Galdran Merindar's days. Grievously foolish," Savona murmured to my ear when he sensed my silent question.

Then a clear, level voice spoke up, "My lord, you honor us with your commendable counsel, but I'm afraid you've failed to consider its consequences." A quick look revealed that the speaker was in fact Lelaine, standing with poise almost directly opposite of us. "A raise of prices in flour would mean that the bakers—whose business is directly proportional—would suffer a decrease in revenue. The unfortunate result of that is a raise of price for bread, which would then affect all people in the kingdom in unpleasant ways."

"A most valuable insight, Lady Lelaine," Vidanric acknowledged with formal politeness. "Do you have further opinion on the matter?"

Lelaine inclined her head. "What Kaslaen-on-Akaeriki needs is a dam."

At this, Savona toasted his glass. "A dam? Admittedly, that'll increase the intensity of water flow and power input to the mills. But an effective dam is often an enormous project that consumes much capital. Should a dam be built, what is to be the source of funding? Certainly not the royal treasury, for much is still required to undo Galdran's messes across the kingdom."

"Very thoughtful put, you grace," Lelaine replied with her usual graciousness. "However, might I humbly suggest that the funding need not to draw from the royal treasury?"

"Enlighten us."

"Be honored. As your grace have said, a successful dam shall—greatly—increase the input power, which in turn increases the output yields, which in turn creates surplus profit. If Kaslaen-on-Akaeriki is to publicly announce the building project across the kingdom, they need not seek a source of funding; capital will naturally come as a part of the workings of economy. You see, the lure of profit shall naturally attract investors like rich and well-off merchants and traders to pour funding into the dam as investment."

At this, murmurs of appreciation and admiration rang across the throne room. _The Duchess of Orinthe is indeed clever_, I thought as I gazed at her beautiful, serene face.

But something felt wrong.

I grimaced. If only my head did not feel so light and drowsy.

"What about the poor people?" I suddenly blurted out. The room silenced as all looked at me with confusion. Lelaine arched a brow at me.

_Well, time to put all I've read to work, _I though grimly. Hoping I didn't sound a fool, I rephrased, "A dam disrupts the flow of a river and devastatingly floods a great area behind it. As a result, what used to be the homes and lands of people will be destroyed. Who'd like to wake up one day to find their beloved home at the bottom of a lake?"

My words did not cause an overt reaction in the crowd as Lelaine's had, but I sensed that the people had now turned contemplative.

Lelaine, on the other hand, gave me a kind and indulging smile—the sort one would reserve for a silly child not to be taken seriously. "My dear Meliara, how thoughtfully kind of you to place your concern on an insignificantly small number of subjects!"

Though her words were amiable and complimentary, her meaning was clear to everyone and me. "What you mean is that government ought to benefit the greatest number of subjects, even if others must be compromised," I said, quoting from a conqueror-king of Marloven Hess.

"Precisely. A government cannot possibly please everyone."

I pursed my lips and frowned. "So ... "insignificantly small number of subjects" ought to be disregarded and forsaken?"

Vidanric cast me a quick look.

"If needed—yes." Her smile was now slightly challenging.

"The life and well-being of _every_ subject," I declared passionately, deciding I didn't care what others though of me as long as I got out what I thought was right, "is the natural burden and duty of a government. _The government that forsakes that burden is a dictatorship_."

The courtiers and petitioners—everyone—was now silent. In fact, the throne room had turned so still, the gentle rustle of silks could be heard. I felt too tired and indefinitely weary to check for people's reactions, but I sensed approval in Vidanric's gray gaze.

The ringing in my ears had gradually intensified since my arrival to an unbearably high and harsh noise. More than anything I wanted return to my rooms and have Mora bring my some listerblossom tea—but I knew Lelaine was not done with me.

And I was right. "Your ideas of government are most salutary, but pray tell, what do you propose for our friends from Kaslaen-on-Akaeriki?" she questioned with a calm smile.

I bit back a sigh. "Look, no quick solution is going to work. The drying of Akaeriki is a long, gradual problem that has spanned over the years due to overuse and abuse of the river. Building dams _will _give a temporary solution, but it's not going to prevent the river from drying up near the future. What is needed, I think, are laws to protect the river from further damage, so a steady recovery will be—"

I gulped and gasped for breath. Black spots swarm across my vision, and my head felt like someone had whacked it hard with a blade. At my right, I felt Savona grip my arm and ask me something.

"Oh, pardon me," I managed to murmur before I crashed to the floor and lost my senses.

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**AN: **Whoo! Because my computer has gone crazy, I have to post this from my mom's lab computer in UC Berkeley. So this HAS to be a personal record--because I wrote about all of this in one afternoon! Heh. 

Please review?

Also: Until school starts, I, autumn faery, promises that I will cease to be evil and UPDATE (probably once a week).

(oh, I do hope I can keep the promise!)


	9. Chapter Nine

**AN: Didn't I say I'd keep my promise? grin**

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**Mage Duel**

_By Autumn Faery_

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**Disclaimer: **I. Don't. Own. 

**Thank you, my ever wonderful reviewers:** FoREvEr ends, rubic-cube, rockpaperscissor, siriusforeva, Silver, Wake-Robin, Invisible Insomniac, Felsong, Racetrack's Goil

**And thank you** Wake-Robin** for beta-ing this chp.**

**Last chapter:** _Because of Lelaine's strange words, Mel decided to seek Vidanric for information about Flauvic's past. She learned from Danric that Flauvic did in fact grown up in Nente, where, it seems, was also Lelaine's home for many years. Wanting to catch a glimpse of Flauvic-the-tree for the first time since her memory loss, Mel decided attending Petitioner's Court was the best way to do so without catching ill-attention. She ends up arguing with Lelaine on the issue of dam building on the Akaeriki river, and finally, the best method of government. _

_Oh yes, and being in the throne room some how made her ill and she fainted. _

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**Chapter Nine**

I became aware of the piquant scent of listerblossom tea.

Sighing unconsciously, I fought waves of dizziness and opened my eyes. And for a moment, I had to frown with confusion before realization dawned.

_I'm in my bed_, I thought_, but the last I remember was—oh. _Heat crept up my face as I recalled the events at Petitioner's Court. I'd been arguing like a fool … and then had promptly fainted right in front of everyone.

_Life!_

"My lady." I turned to face Mora, as she placed a cup of listerblossom tea in my hands. I immediately drank it all without pause. My drowsy mind instantly cleared and the numerous aches in my body dulled to bearable twinges.

I smiled gratefully at Mora. "Thanks."

Ever silent, she said nothing, bowed, and left me in peace.

Now alone, my mood turned contemplative, as I drew my knees against me.

_"Flauvic did in fact grow up in a foreign land. Spent many—and successful, I might mention—years as a page at Nente in Sles Adran,"_ Vidanric had said. That would mean my suspicious about Lelaine was right; she did have a connection to Flauvic. After all, if both grew up in the same court, how could one not had known the other?

The question then: _what manner of connection did the two share?_

And: _what did she mean that day at Trishe's garden party?_

Had she and Flauvic been mutual acquaintances? Friends? Maybe even lovers? However, the latter would be somewhat puzzling if her designs for Vidanric were taken into consideration. _So … what exactly does she hope to endeavor?_ I bit my lower lip and thought hard. _Does she seek_ _revenge?_ That could be possible, for I had played—according to Nee, at least—quite a role in the recent events. However, this too was unlikely. Her actions never betrayed any apparent sign of vengeance; although it's clear she did not like me, she never wished or did me outright harm.

But what in Remalna did she mean by "_his nasty spell_"? _He_—Flauvic? Or someone else entirely? Spell? Of what kind? A past threat or looming danger?

These thoughts brought me flashes of my nightmares—of the strange voice, so pleasant and dangerous. I had grown to loath those dreams, whose unpleasant clutches often left me breathless and drained. I had even gone as far as to avoiding sleep all together. But now I wondered: _did the voice belong to Flauvic?_

Well, I had no way of knowing. I did not remember his voice.

"My lady. A runner from his grace, the Marquis of Shevraeth, brings an inquiry on your currently state of well-being—and an invitation to coffee and pastries if circumstances bear no maladroitness." The frenzy of questions scattered from my mind as I looked up to see Mora in my room once more, her face kindly inquiring.

"Oh!" I replied, instantly smiling. "I think I'd very much like that."

She nodded and at once began setting out a morning dress for me. After she left, I quietly and quickly dressed, and entered my parlor to find a runner in Renselaeus colors waiting patiently. Thanking her, I followed her to the royal wing.

I arrived at the royal parlor to find Vidanric at a small redwood table, set by a wide and lovely window, writing and working away. At my entrance, he quickly looked up and his tense brows lifted gently as he smiled. "Meliara, what a relief," he murmured as he closed the distance between us in large strides and took my hand, brushing his lips against my knuckles. Up close, I saw that he looked as tired as I felt—and even more tense.

"Now, _I'm_ just relieved there's food!" I exclaimed comically, hoping to lighten the mood. I was rewarded with his quick smile as he led me to the table. We both took a seat—but I was bewildered to realize he hadn't let go of my hand. _Well, no matter_. I mentally shrugged. The warmth of his grasp felt too reassuring and comforting to shake away.

As I watched him pour coffee for the both of us with his free hand, I felt some of my old helpless embarrassment return as I mumbled, "I'm sorry."

His brows lifted in surprise. "Whatever for?"

"Passing out cold like that. During Petitioner's Court, I might add! Now, the kingdom's affairs are important and serious—and I was utterly inappropriate to bring drama there," I told him firmly, my mouth thin with displeasure. "Ugh! Fainting! I shall never forgive myself!"

The expression then on Vidanric's face was so rare I had to stop and stare. Bemusement. Humor. Worry. Bewilderedness. Wryness. His countenance was a battle of emotions, from one range to the other. Then it was all gone. "Never mind that. I assure you no offence was taken, from petitioner to courtier, of actions you could not have helped," he said, brows faintly puckered again. "What concerns me is your state of health."

I snorted. "Nothing to place your—"

He gently cut in, "I have noticed your recent decline of well-being. I cannot help but place blame upon myself."

It was my turn to be bewildered. "Huh?" I asked in disbelief. "What have _you_ done?"

The corners of his lips quirked. "I believe," he answered quickly with no traces of his usual drawl, "I've done great harm by taking advantage of your talent in the affairs of finance—"

I snorted, louder and more exasperated this time. Must he always be so gallant? "Oh, life! How in the _universe_ is that your fault?" I retorted, feeling helplessly angry—not with him, but myself for being so pathetically feeble. "Please. It was I, who offered to help. And, admit it, you need it, since no one else shares the 'bitter herb of responsibility' with you. Besides, I _like_ using my mind and doing those things. Keeps me nice and busy."

"But look what toll it has taken on you," he said tensely, his face tight. I felt his grip on my hand tighten. "I will _not_ have your health compromised. _Never_. From now on it'll be good long nights of rest for you."

I felt my spirits plummet with despair. I really did enjoy working with numbers and managing finances—and Vidanric's quiet but reassuring company was always pleasant.

"It's not like I'll get any sleep anyway with all those nightmares," I muttered under my breath.

When he inquired after my words, I said nothing.

* * *

Days blended to weeks as time passed. 

I no longer stayed up late at night to help Vidanric, though this changed little, for I simply doubled the work I'd take off his load during the day. At night, I _did_ try to sleep—but no avail. The nightmares continued and they left me so exhausted that I soon discovered I was actually better off if I avoided sleep all together.

My health continued to steadily decline, much to the horror of my friends, but I mentioned none of this in my cheerful letters to Bran and Nee.

And of late, Lelaine had abruptly changed tremendously. It appeared she had decided to completely drop her pursuit of Vidanric, for she no longer sought him out at balls and parties, nor was she ever seen conversing with him alone again. And even more puzzling was the fact that she no longer endeavored to be antagonistic towards me, but pleasant and amiable—even friendly.

For instance, at the afterward tea reception of Baroness Beroliar's concert, my mind was still swirling with the wonderful music preformed that night by traveling players all the way from Colend when I noted that Lelaine was making her way towards me. My instant reaction was dismay for I was too tired to deal with her yet more.

"Ah, Meliara," she remarked, smiling. "What lovely concert that was! I was especially fond of the harp concerto."

I searched her face—what did she seek this time? Yet I found no piercing intent in her green orbs, nor was her smile superior or unkindly amused. She appeared … almost relaxed and satisfied, though I did not understand. Realizing my silence was awkward, I quickly said, "Oh, yes. The harp is wondrous." My tone was curt and polite. I didn't want to tell her how much the tinkling sound had brought a haunting longing or how I wanted that soothing melody to cloak me forever.

Lelaine appeared not to notice my shortness and grinned. "I miss the sound a lot. I still remember some of it from long, long ago when my mother used to play the harp for me." Her gaze was distant now. "Too bad she went away. My putrid goose of an aunt hated music"—her grin turned sardonic—"and everything I could possibly like."

I was taken aback by the longing and melancholy that leaked from her confessional voice. And it suddenly occurred to me that though she may be beautiful, graceful, and intelligent, perhaps she hadn't always been happy. Pursing my lips, I finally smiled and told her, "Well, those days are gone. You still have a long, long path before you—and I wish you happiness."

She slowly grinned, her eyes happy, glad, and expectant.

That had been only one of the few occasions she sought me out. We'd usually engaged in conversations about history and music, and I discovered that she was clever and witty when she wasn't mocking.

Such dramatic change in her caused me to spend many long nights pondering over her bizarre behavior.

Yet at last, I gave up. Perhaps I was far too quick to judge and had seriously misapprehended her character.

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**AN:** Oh dear, a grievously short chapter. You'll have to forgive me, but it was neccessary to stop there--or else there'd be the biggest and meanest cliffhanger ever. 

And have I mentioned that beginning from the next chapter, Mel's going to get herself thrown down the roller coaster? Yes...

REVIEW. _(if you don't, I can always go back to my Evil Ways.)_


	10. Chapter Ten

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**Mage Duel**

By Autumn Faery

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**Disclaimer:** Don't own. Plain and simple. 

**Note to Wake-Robin: **Okay, I'm a failure. I didn't finish the chapter quickly enough to send it do you and still have time to post it again. Please accept my apologies!

**THANK YOU TO ALL WHO REVIEWED THE LAST CHAPTER! **

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**_Chapter Ten_**

I laid awake in the dimness of the night, the consistent _plip-plop_ of rain outside drumming in my ears. Turning and tossing, I felt restless. The air around me felt too stifling and thick, the darkness too shrouding.

Images skirted across my mind: whispering faces behind fans, concerned gazes, and sympathetic smiles …

And voices too: _"The poor thing. Look at her—she won't live to see the New Year celebrations." … "'Tis such a shame. I swear she could be queen if she wanted to. Too bad it'll all amount to nothing!" … "She looks just as poor Kadra did—and _she_ only lasted a few months before we had to arrange funeral preparations."_

My mouth tightened in anger. They all seemed to have given up on me. Just the day before, I'd overheard two young stable boys making a wager what'd happen first: the coronation, or my death. Everyone's doubts and lack of faith in me was eating me away inside, even more so than my poor health. Only Vidanric's tired glances remained hopeful.

I suddenly felt confined. More than anything I wished to _escape_. _A walk,_ I finally decided, _you need walk. _Grabbing a sturdy and dark cloak, I left my rooms.

It was a cool night out. The sky was a murky gray, but the sprinkle of rain was pleasant and refreshing. It felt so good to be alone and unseen. Spotting a garden bench under a sprawling, ancient oak, I sat, blending into the shadows. I remained motionless and thought of nothing as cool droplets rolled down my hair and face. I almost felt calm.

Then something changed.

For a moment I wasn't sure _what_—but my ambiguity soon dispersed. The air around me, I realized, had began to crackle with some unseen energy, making my skin tinkle.

And in an instant a cloaked figure appeared in thin air—seemingly from nowhere—near the State Wing.

I felt my lips part. Steadying my shocked breaths, I looked again and again. No trick of the night; an anonymous figure was indeed paces away. The air of my lungs whooshed out as I though, _a magic wielder? _I knew from all my reading that a sudden appearance like that had to be caused by a transfer spell. But … a mage? In Athanarel? Nee and Vidanric had never mentioned anyone knowing magic in all of Remalna!

Well, aside from Flauvic.

My scalp pickled with alarm. Belatedly realizing the mage was moving towards the palace, I rose quickly and followed. And soon I was soon glad of the darkness of night and the sense of security it radiated, for not once did the mysterious stranger look back and discover my presence. Nevertheless my heart pounded wildly as I tried my best to keep my step light. I didn't dare to imagine what'd happen if I _was_ discovered.

Following the unknown mage up a grand marble stairway, it hit me that we were heading for the throne room. My pulse quickened and trepidation gripped me, but my steps did not falter as I trailed after the stranger. _Well, _I thought with pathetic bemusement, _if I'm going to die anyway like everyone thinks, might as well get myself turned to a toad. _

Due to the thick rain, the guards in front of the great double doors were oblivious until it was too late: before any of them could react, the mage muttered strange words and they all crumpled to the ground. I gripped my throat with a hand and desperately choked back a horrified gasp. The poor guards! I hoped no serious harm had befallen on them.

Fear and anxiety now made my throat dry and my legs heavy as I dragged myself after the dangerous mage. Once inside the throne room, I quickly ducked behind a lush potted tree and warily watched the figure approach the dais. I felt anger and helplessness sting my cheeks. If the mage were to try something horrible, I wouldn't be able to stop him or her. _All right, _I thought firmly with my lips pursed, _I'll just die trying._

Near the dais, the mage seemed to be transfixed upon the sight of Flauvic as he or she lifted the hood if their cloak.

_Lelaine._

I gaped at her—the same good figure, the same grace, and the same soft chestnut hair—in incomprehension before dark surprise struck like a blow. _Lelaine. A mage? _I recalled her recent friendly words and smiles, and felt ill.

She sauntered to the dais with usual poise, and took a seat next to Flauvic-the-goldwood-tree. Leaning gently against it, she murmured, "Mention power and they hound after you with eagerness fit for dogs." There was a trace of sardonic distaste in her voice.

Initially I thought she was talking to herself, but then a laughing and beautiful male voice replied, "You cannot fault them for ambition. Don't we all desire power?"

Again, shock struck me.

The voice, with the tone of a trained singer, was a familiar one. _It's the voice of my dreams! _With horror and fascination, I strained my neck to catch a sight of the speaker—but I saw no one except Lelaine, who replied, "True. True. But their lack of finesse disgusts me." She shrugged. "Oh well, no matter. They'll help us get what we want, and that's enough for me. Speaking of which, how long until you break free of this despicable spell?"

_Break free?_ I thought with a cold jolt.

The male voice laughed. Again, I bewilderedly searched for the source of the sound, but noticed no one until my gaze rested on the goldwood tree.

Its lush branches were rustling and quivering just as one would when laughing.

_Meliara Astiar, you are a fool_. I grimaced and restrained from whacking myself. _But of course! It all makes perfect sense. Who else would plague you night after night—but one who despise you the most? _The voice had to belong to Flauvic. But how he could talk as a tree, I didn't know. Magic must be involved.

"Always the impatient one, aren't you?" he said in that same pleasant tone. "Well, worry not. My magic is strengthening thanks to dear Meliara."

My eyes narrowed at this. _Thanks to me?_

I felt the grin in Lelaine's voice as she murmured, "She's a dear. So innocent and ignorant—and quite noble too! Should she be a mage, I suspect she'd join the foolish and bombastic bunch of Whites over at Bereth Ferian. You should hear her gallant speeches. So amusing and delightful! Well, I'll be most grateful to her when she dies."

"Well, then. Why don't we express our gratitude now?" Flauvic sounded indefinitely amused.

"What are you talking about?" Lelaine questioned the same moment as I thought, _huh?_

Flauvic ignored the question. "Meliara, Meliara. When will you learn?" he murmured as I blanched. "_Do_ come out behind that tree and join us. 'Tisn't polite to eavesdrop."

_Who_ would _ever_ listen to what their enemy tells them?

Without a word, I bolted from my hiding spot. My cheeks stung from the sudden rush of blood to my face as I raced past a side door into the familiar hallways of Athanarel. My pulse drumming loudly in my ears, I could only gasp for breath as shadows melted by and instinct took over reason. I hardly knew where I was running towards, but one distinctive goal rang clear in my mind: _I have to get away from Lelaine and Flauvic._

A flash of purple flew by, barely missing me on my right.

A quick glance revealed that Lelaine was not far behind—_and_ armed with spells.

As if on queue, several beams of purple again came my way. Holding back a grimace, I ducked, then shifted to the left—and then jumped. My pace did not slacken, however. The sense of danger was now immediate and acute. Spotting a corridor on my side, I quickly turned left.

With a profound sense of relief, I realized I was no longer running in the grand gilded hallways of the State Wing, but had arrived in the more private halls of the Residence. Perhaps I could seek help or—

_No, _I told myself firmly, _you will not endanger anyone. This is your mess alone—so take care of it._

The sight of a plain and nondescript door skirted past the side of my vision. I halted so fast I almost slipped and pried the door open with shaking hands. Quickly entering the narrow and winding stone pathway beyond, I surreptitious closed the door behind me, and, finding the latch, bolted it. I had a feeling a simple door was not going to keep Lelaine away long—but it'd buy me time.

Meanwhile I continued to race up a narrow stairway of what I realized was the runners' service access. _Good_, I thought with a small sigh. The service access is a discreet maze that snakes around the entire palace. Lelaine would have trouble finding me in here.

Once or twice I nearly stumbled, for the narrow path was pitch black and I didn't dare to light the glowglobes. Finally, I had to fight against instinct and slow my already tired legs, knowing Lelaine was probably now far behind. What I needed was time to think and figure out what course of action to take next.

I knew I needed to seek help, but I also did not wish to endanger anyone. Perhaps I could find a hiding place until morning came? Lelaine would not dare to hunt me down in the light of day. But where would I hide … ?

"Thought you could hide, Meliara? Run you could, but you cannot hide from my tracer spells." My heart lurched splendidly at Lelaine's sudden voice and gentle touch at my shoulder.

I said nothing and remained still. Then, in a great burst of speed, I jammed my elbow hard in what I hope was her pretty little face and ran once again without heed of her pained groan. My elbow felt faintly sticky; I must have bloodied her nose. Good.

Bloody nose or not, it didn't take long before I heard her steps behind me. Biting back curses, I increased my pace and ignored the painful stumbles caused by missteps due to the darkness. The surges of anxiety and desperation made my temple sore and eyes sting.

And it wasn't long before spells came my way again. In the dimness of the service access, they glowed a crackling blue-purple. There was no time to wonder what'd happen to me. I ran on, my legs no longer sore but numb.

It was then that a sickening compact sent me reeling; I was at a dead end.

Turning, I braced for my fate—whatever it may be. Merely paces from me was Lelaine's shadowy outline. I couldn't see her expression, but I had a general idea what was going to happen. And I was right. With a truly magnificent gesture, she flung forward her arms and a great, bright flash of purple blinded my vision.

Instinct prompted me to duck as all around me trembled and quaked. Amidst the confusion, the wall behind me somehow gave away and I lost my balance. Dust and grime smote my senses as I felt the harsh compact of the rough debris underneath me. Then light flooded my vision.

With a sense of surrealism, a backward image of Vidanric appeared. In his hand was a bright glowglobe that highlighted a hallow around his pale hair.

_There, I've just lost my mind_, I thought as my body numbed and ached. I couldn't help but to close my eyes and drift away.

* * *

Deadening tiredness compelled me to remain as I was, comfortable and warm. I had a vague sense of soft and scented cloths around my cheek and something nice and gentle cushioning my head. 

But the very last of my will to survive prompted me to struggle awake and abandon my comfort. And so I groggily forced open my eyes, and fought hard into a sitting position.

My surrounding was an unfamiliar one.

I was buried in the massive blankets and many pillows of a truly magnificent bed. And above me was an elaborate canopy comprised of fine green velvet with a delicate gold stitching of a crowned sun. _Green and gold. Oh my._

I was in _the_ State Bed. I think.

Just that moment, when I was flushed from head to toe, Vidanric chose to come in. He looked the same as ever: simply dressed but impeccably neat, hair pale and tied back, eyes a cloudy gray. When he caught sight of me, his already wide eyes widened.

"I'm sorry," he quickly murmured. "I didn't mean to intrude your privacy, for I thought you asleep and merely meant to leave this"—he gestured at a tray in his hand with a steaming cup of listerblossom tea—"with you."

His words were so ironic I had to snort and laugh. "You _must_ be jesting. I get blasted into _your_ rooms at ungodly hours, and"—I couldn't bring myself to say _occupy your bed_—"and you're telling me _you're_ sorry for intruding _my_ privacy?"

Vidanric seemed to sense my unspoken words, for he told me in a laughing voice, "Don't distress yourself. You have deprived me of nothing. To be honest, I never sleep in that bed. Fear it's too pompous for my tastes."

Still hopelessly awkward and embarrassed, I settled for a disarming shrug and went on in a more serious voice, "But tell me, what _really_ happened? I know when that nasty spell hit, the wall behind me gave away. Don't tell me I managed to wreck one of your walls?

Vidanric gently placed the tray in a small redwood table and leaned against the doorway, regarding me with steady eyes. "No, you didn't go about smashing walls, I'm afraid. What you fell through was the secret passage access in my study. Like all palaces in Satorias-deles, Athanarel's got its fair share of secret passages, some interconnected with the discreet service access. There's one just like that in the royal study. A book shelf hides the secret entrance, which is why you easily fell through."

"I see," I muttered and couldn't help but to sigh with relief. Lelaine must have fled when she realized the chase was no longer discreet. But I nevertheless felt tense. She was not one to easily give up. Remembering Vidanric's presence, I willed my stress away and asked, "I take it now's my turn for some explanation?"

He inclined his head. "I know Lelaine's responsible for all the magical malice; I've been suspicious of her for months. But I do not know of the details."

"All right." I nodded. "Bran once said I had an instinct for trouble—well, he's right. I was out on a walk because, well ... because, and I caught sight of Lelaine zapping in by magic. Decided to follow her into the throne room." At this point I paused. How much should I reveal to Vidanric? He's always in a shroud of mystery, so I couldn't admit that I understood him. Yet somehow, I trusted him above all the courtiers in Athanarel. Besides, I owed him the plain truth after all the trouble I'd caused him. So I continued, "Well, she started talking to Flauvic."

Vidanric showed surprise—and alarm—at this.

I nodded to affirm his suspicions. "I reckon there's magic involved. Lots of it. I did overhear some things, but I suspect Flauvic knew all along I was there. All that I can determine is that Lelaine is allied with him and they're currently seeking cronies for their cause. Oh, and Flauvic is going to break from his enchantment very soon. Once I die, it seems."

At this, Vidanric turned pale and his whole frame seemed to coil inward with tension. He muttered a soft curse and said, "I wish I knew more of magic. Do you have any insights how we're to hamper their decidedly sinister plans?" His tone indicated that he couldn't bring himself to say _your impending death_.

I shook my head and sighed. "I wish I knew. I wish I knew ..."

* * *

**AN: Well, the roller coaster ride is hardly over. **

**How was the chapter? Please give me your comments and opinions! I wish I spent more time on it, but alas, my computer is screwed up so my time is limited. Sorry if the chapter was typo-filled.**

**Please, please review! Your feedback really helps to urge me on! **


	11. Chapter Eleven

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**Mage Duel**

_By Autumn Faery_

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**Disclaimer: **Oh please, my writing would not stink this much if I was actually the author of Crown Duel; I'm but a mere fan and own nothing! 

**Thank you** Kateranie, Wake-Robin, Dumbledore's Heir, Racetrack's Goil, RYR, FreckledMischief, rubic-cube, ruledbythemoon, Erkith, RandomPerson, l'ilmissnitpick, siriusforeva, tina **for your ever kind reviews!**

**Some have asked how many chapter would be left:** Well, I've got the plot planned out—but not the chapter division and stuff. So all I can say is that the adventure is just beginning i.e. expect 6-10 more chapters or so.

**Also, a plea for help**: All right, my computer is just messed up. It wouldn't let me have access to the "stories" page in the logins area. Every time when I visit that page, a blank page shows up and I can't update anything. Because of this, I have to do ALL my updates on Sundays in my mom's lab computer and thereforewon't have time to sendmy chapters to Wake-Robin, my wonderful beta-reader.

Ugh! Does anyone else have the same problem? Do any of you guys know how to solve it? I have aPC under Windows XP and I use IE 6.

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**_Chapter Eleven_**

It was a blindingly bright day. The intense light flooding from the wide archive windows highlighted all in my vision a vibrant hue: the various parchments and open books a pristine white, the redwood table a crimson glow, the silver pitcher a dazzling glare, and the bottle of ink a glittering violet.

I had come to the archive while everyone else was preoccupied with Petitioners' Court in favor of privacy of contemplation and research. Recent events have occurred far too rapidly for the space and time to simply _think_.

Outside, the bright, sun-lit leaves were beginning to yellow, betraying the impending departure of summer. I felt grim. Would this be my last summer? I quickly tore my gaze from the outside view. Starring at the various documents and books scattered in front of me, I held back the urge to slump in defeat. Remalna—

"Remalna simply lacks the magical background to provide the ideal information on magic. I know." A subtle, deep, but familiar voice sighed.

"Vidanric!" I looked up from my books and smiled at the Marquis as he took a seat close to me. He must have came directly from Petitioners' Court, for he was magnificently adorned in a dark purple tunic with gold embroideries, his hair braided and bejeweled. But up close, I saw that his face, thought skillfully schooled to a bland expression, betrayed weariness and melancholy.

"What's the current situation?" I asked him at once, feeling tense.

He sat back and regarded me with serious eyes. "Lelaine has disappeared—as is expected—along with all her servants and belonging, just like that"—he snapped his fingers—"without anyone knowing or noticing. It's as if she was never here; nothing of importance or value was uncovered in her rooms."

I nodded, and then replied, "A temporary retreat, then. She's not done with me."

Vidanric frown faintly in acquiesce. "No she's not." His face briefly tightened before he sighed with frustration. "I resent the heavy involvement of magic. All my years of training has failed to prepare me against malice such as this. But Lelaine and Flauvic are human—their thinking and behavior therefore can be accessed in human terms. Consider this: Lelaine is no great fool. If she deemed chasing you through the palace a necessary risk, it must mean that your knowledge—however limited—of their plans places you in considerable advantage."

I thought hard and allowed his words to process in my mind. "You're right; I see what you mean," I said, pursing my lips thoughtfully. "She wouldn't have taken the risk if it doesn't matter if I know why I'm to die; she must have feared what I could do if I knew of their plans and got away. From the brief bits of their conversation that night, I'm fairly sure that Flauvic is completely dependent—thought I do not know _how_—on me to break the enchantment. So her desperate actions must suggest that I'm not completely powerless to stop their plans."

Vidanric's faint smile was approving as he nodded and murmured, "Exactly." But his smile quickly dispelled as grim deliberation replaced his expression. "So their schemes may be thwarted—but how? It's clear we must fight magic with magic, but there are no mages or magical resources in Remalna."

"What about the Council of Mages in Eidervaen?"

"I've already composed and sent a letter seeking aid with my fastest messenger," he told me, but his forehead was troubled. "However, it could still take many weeks before the letter reaches them and our importunity is considered and discussed." He looked at me gravely. "Time is more than valuable—and I don't think we've got enough of it. Help might not arrive in time."

I balled my hands into tight fists and said nothing.

"Meanwhile, the possibility of Flauvic's release from bondage means that Remalna is once again under threat," Vidanric told me lowly.

I felt my shoulders tighten. Vidanric was putting all the responsibility upon himself—and the burden's weighting him down. He now must prepare the kingdom against any possible danger, yet he must to so without rising panic in the general populace. Wishing his tired and troubled countenance away, I asked, "What about Flauvic's things? His house was thoroughly searched after the previous Merindar threat, was it not? He must have left magic books, and they must give _some_ insight on whatever nasty spell he's cooking up."

Vidanric grimaced. "Unfortunately, he left lamentably few books and documents. It seems he did most of the plotting in his head. Would you like to have a look at the magic books uncovered? I'll have a runner bring them to your rooms if you'd like."

I quickly nodded. "Please. What kind of information do they contain?"

He sighed softly. "Very general topics like transfers and wards. Some of them go into more complicated details on specific spells, but none of them mention what he is endeavoring to accomplish. Not even remotely close."

I whistled lowly. "All right, I'll admit our resident-villainous-tree sure is careful and vigilant. Who knew someone with such a sing-song voice would be such a pain-in-the—" I stopped short and flushed. Clearing my throat, I questioned, "Anyway, are you sure none of the books mention _anything_ about spells that overcomes enchantments by harming another?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. I conducted a thorough search last night, and none of them provided the information I hoped."

"You stayed up all night researching this? When you've got Petitioners' the very next morning?" I gulped with guilt.

He held up a hand. "Please. None of that is important. What I want to know is how are you faring?" A single jewel in his ear glittered like a tear.

I looked transfixed into his gray orbs and suddenly felt my eyes sting. Unheedingly, huge plops tears began to overwhelm in my eyes and tumble down my face. I bit my lips hard and quickly mumbled, "Oh! Sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me. I—"

My words died when I realized Vidanric was kneeling very close by my side. Then wordlessly, he wrapped his long arms around me firmly and held me close to him. My face was tucked away in the folds of his tunic against his chest as he rested his chin on the top of my head.

His close proximity, the steady pulse of his heart, his faint scent reminiscent of dusky summer fields, the warmth and console of his arms around me, the feel of his slender hands stroking my hair, the gentle sound of his voice speaking words of comfort—all of it felt like wonderful blows to my head as my heart gave a great, foreign flip.

Vidanric then took my hands and pressed them to his lips. And, in a voice as raw as his first words to me the first moments when I awoke to find my memory gone, he softly murmured, "Brace up, Mel. We'll figure something out." His arms around me tightened. "No harm will come to you—I won't let it."

I suddenly realized the woe behind my tears: I wasn't fearful of death—but it'd be devastating if I could never gaze upon those gray eyes again.

* * *

From my balcony, I looked out and into the night sky. It was moonless night, and I could sense another summer storm approaching. The sky and stars seemed to have been seized by a mass of angry, rumbling, and constantly roving clouds. And below and around me, the trees and foliage were whipped about by a powerful and harsh north wind. A sense of foreboding raced down my spine. 

_Must I leave in such ill weather?_ I wondered for a moment as I considered the unpleasantness of traveling in a storm. _But I_ _must._

Vidanric had sent over Flauvic's magic books as he promised. And he was right: most of them revealed nothing of Flauvic and Lelaine's plans.

However, I had learned something of great importance.

One of the books had a section on the imposing tracer spells that Lelaine used seemingly so effortlessly to find me. I had learned that they could only work under two conditions: the specific identity of the person being traced must be known, and that the caster of the spell _must know_ the one being searched is nearby before risking the spell. According to the book, the nature of a tracer spell is dark, thus it could backfire and harm a mage should the distance between they and the intended victim of search be too great.

In other words, if I remained in Athanarel, Lelaine could just come back and zap me away even if I tried to hide. If I fled however, she would no longer know of my relative location and therefore would not be able to use tracer spells to find me, lest the distance between she and I be too great and the spell backfires.

I'd decided to travel to Eidervaen in Sator to seek the Council of Mages in person. And meanwhile I'd no longer be a bothersome burden to Vidanric so he may concentrate solely on preparing the kingdom in defense against whatever threat Flauvic and Lelaine had prepared.

Of course, as I gazed out into the wide and lonesome landscape, with the chilly wind lashing around me, there were fear and doubt in my mind. Would I make it to Eidervaen? Would my already declining health last? Would I die and allow Flauvic to break from the enchantment before ever reaching the Council of Mages? And even if I made it to Sator, would I be able to find a solution?

Gripping the railing of the balcony hard, I forcefully pushed away my anxieties. _You have to try_, I told myself firmly, _if you don't, Flauvic and Lelaine have already won._

After one last glance at the moody night sky, I returned to the warmth of my room. Plopping into a cushion, I quickly grabbed for a pen and parchment and scribbled a quick note to Vidanric:

_Vidanric— _

_By the time you read this, I will most probably be far away. In fear of this note ending in wrong hands, I'm afraid I must omit all details. All I can do is ask you to place your trust in me and forgive my sudden decision. Do not worry about my fate; I will be in less danger than I would be if I remained here. I promise you I will place the outmost care upon myself, and will endeavor to see you again. _

_Please accept my sincerest gratitude for everything. And please take care. _

_Until we meet again, _

_-Mel_

I read the note over and looked up when the tapping of my door-tapestry revealed the presence of Mora.

"My lady," she told me, her voice calmly soft, "I've gotten the palace stable livery that you requested."

I grinned and thanked her, but my grin slipped away when I met her gaze and sensed tenseness in her usually steady eyes. "Oh Mora, I'll be all right. Don't worry," I consoled, smiling ruefully.

She held up a thin and aged hand. "My lady, 'its not my place to interfere with your decisions, so all I wish to do is bid you a safe journey. That, and—" She paused to present me a soft package wrapped in white silk and tied neatly with a gold-colored string. "It's a gift from us servants. We had hoped to present it to you when you—well, when you married and—but with the current situation—" She broke off shakily and sighed.

Feeling the corners of my eyes sting, I held the package with great care. With a tug, the string came lose and layers and layers of oh-so-soft cloth tumbled down my hands. I held out the garment—and gasped. In my hands was the most beautiful nightgown I'd ever seen. It was composed of many layers of soft, thin, and translucent white cloth, with delicate stitchings in silver and pearls sewn near the elegant neckline and many ribbons intertwined near the flowing sleeves.

Overwhelmed, I quickly buried my face in the soft and pleasant folds of the nightgown.

"Do you like it, my lady?" I heard Mora ask. "We all wanted to save it for your wedding, and I was not suppose to present you with this until then—but I'd like you to at least see it once before you set out into great danger. I'll keep it for you until you return. Perhaps"—she gave a small, wry chuckle—"it'll motivate you to take great care to come back safe and well."

"Oh, Mora it's wonderful! Do save it for me. I'll most definitely come back and wear it should I ever marry!" I strode to her and embraced her slender form, whispering "Thank you, thank you" over and over.

--

The wind howling and wailing relentlessly in my ears, I rode tensely in unfamiliar terrain. It was dark out, and I didn't want an unseen rock and ditch to cause my horse to stumble and throw me off.

After biding Mora goodbye and leaving her with instructions of delivery of my note to Vidanric, I had swiftly changed into the stable livery, braided my hair, wrapped it around my head in a coronet, and carefully hid all of my renowned red-brown locks under a cap. I then had hastily packed a bag full of coins, some bread and cheese Mora had gotten me from the kitchens, Flauvic's magic books, some spare clothes, a glowglobe, and several maps of Sator and the southern continent that I took from the library. Taking care to be discreet, I had left my rooms and managed to take a fresh horse from the stables with no one interfering and noticing, for I looked like a typical stable boy. And just like that, I'd left Athanarel.

The shadows of the lush forest around me gradually thinned and disappeared as I rode into a clearing. Squinting, I realized I was riding along the top of a grand palisade. Below the steep, jagged cliffs, brightly alit in the darkness of night, was what appeared to be a busy town. _Excellent, I shall make a stop there_, I thought as I urged my horse to a mild gallop.

--

Despite the heavy rain, the town—called Ler Erthalen—was bustling with activity. As I led my horse along a wide cobblestone street, carts and carriages passed by us ceaselessly. It turned out that due to its close proximity to the capital, Ler Erthalen was a major stop for merchants and traders with business in Remalna-City. Thus the town's economy was mostly dependent on its many restaurants and inns that colonized every side of its busy streets.

_Good,_ I thought with a small sigh of relief, _I'd have no trouble finding a place to stay—and my presence will not raise curiosity or suspicion. And it'll be easy to go about unnoticed in the crowds of travelers. _

Spotting a modest but comfortable-looking inn called _Oak Manor_, I approached its stables, handed my horse to an eager stable hand, and entered the inn. Music and warmth and the pleasing aroma of roasted pheasant and vegetables greeted me as I wrung off my soggy cloak and chose a lone table in a corner.

The _Oak Manor_ was a medium sized inn with a spacious common room and neat sets of tables and chairs. It must have been built long ago, for its walls were oak paneled and warm-colored. Near the center of the common room, a fire crackled merrily in the hearth. And near it, a space had been made for enthusiastic dancers and a small group of traveling musicians.

"Good traveler, how may I be of assistance?" I turned to find a pleasantly smiling serving girl waiting patiently for a response.

"I'd like some hot chocolate and something warm and filling to eat, please," I told her. The pleasant aromas around me had woken my appetite and made my stomach ache with hunger.

After the serving girl's departure, I slumped in my seat and listened to the conversations around me. A group of merchants to my left were discussing the wool trade and the recent increase in demand for yearth fur. Several elders talked of local business and administration to the front of my table, and to my right, a few young people flirted and laughed. _All right, nothing has gone wrong so far. _

I didn't remember what I had to eat; I was already drooping with sleepiness by the time food arrived. After devouring everything, I paid the innkeeper both for the food and a room. Doggedly climbing up the stairs, I found my room and stumbled in.

Sprawling onto the bed, I promptly fell asleep.

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**AN: **Ugh, my head was throbbing badly while I was writing this. So if this chapter's been really horrible, please forgive me. Please review! 


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